Water and Sun
by redprint
Summary: While trying to uncover the truth and expose the men behind it, Scully finds herself amid an elaborate international conspiracy, an enigmatic priest and a wandering Mulder. And we all know how she gets when she is taken for granted. Angst, MSR, UST, post-IWTB. Chapter 9 rated M.
1. Into the Water

TITLE: Water and Sun

AUTHOR: redprint (also redprintiam)

RATING: T

KEYWORDS: MSR, UST, Angst, Humor. Post-IWTB.

SUMMARY: Scully finds herself amidst deep Vatican secrets, an enigmatic priest and a wandering Mulder. And we all know how she gets when she is taken for granted. Rated T. Post-IWTB. True to MSR, but with a little twist.

SPOILERS: Mild references to different episodes (Never Again, Hollywood A.D., The Truth, IWTB).

A/N: Scully is a strong person, no-nonsense, rational and grounded, but you know that tattoo she got... Well, it makes me wonder of that other part of her personality that makes her so damn complex and interesting. The news of the X-Files series revival got my imagination going. I wanted to explore Scully's feelings toward Mulder's on-going search for the Truth, test her resilience and kick Mulder's butt for being such a moron sometimes.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Chris Carter is the genius behind it.

* * *

IN A SMALL TOWN IN TUSCANY

FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015

She sat down at the kitchen's table and gazed out of the window. The luscious green trees moved in the light breeze while sunrays warmed her tired face. It was their fifth year abroad. Mulder got some troubling information that made them leave the U.S. right after their lives finally settled in. He was free of all charges but also free of everything else. Nothing tied him to D.C. or any other place for that matter. And when a guy from MUFON approached him with serious intel, as he put it, he decided to act on it. And she followed him. She always followed him.

They left the States and travelled first to Damascus, Syria. It was a long and a stressful journey to the other end of the world where they supposedly made experiments on a new breed of super soldiers. DNA variations, mind control through sound waves, enhancing muscles with chemicals... It disturbed her as a doctor and human being when she thought about it.

They found the facility. It had been abandoned not long before they arrived. All samples gone, all files shredded or taken away. Only the locals could give them some unintelligible facts that led them nowhere. It was just one of many disappointments they would witness on their journey. They almost caught the official in charge, almost saved a victim, almost got to the men responsible... almost. Egypt, Israel, Russia, Britain, Germany.

She sighed and ran a hand over her face.

It's a new lead, he told her this morning when he left her alone in a house where she still felt like a guest. They've been in Italy for nine months, the last six in a small town in Tuscany. The local priest took them in. So kind, so gentle.

And so challenging.

Father Nicola O'Brien. He was born in Belfast, Ireland, lived for the most part of his young years in England and migrated to Italy at 30. He was educated in theology, psychology and history, and well versed in languages. She couldn't fathom a priest like him. Empathic, intelligent, daring and honest. It was never just small talk with him, never just a question. A force to be reckoned with, as Mulder described him once.

"My mom is British with Italian ancestry and my father is plain Irish," he told her one evening when they were still getting to know each other.

"What did you do before moving to Italy?" she wanted to know so badly.

"You mean before deciding to be a priest?" his lips curled.

She felt guilty for being so curious, "Yes."

"I was MI5, actually," he replied with a glint in his eyes.

Her eyes widened, "What?"

He nodded, "I was recruited at 24, after working for a year as a psychologist."

She wanted to ask him why he quit but refrained.

"I met a Jesuit when I first came to Rome and decided to become a priest," he explained when he saw her troubled stare. "Mulder didn't tell you that?" he asked when she fell silent.

"No," she shook her head to add an emphasis.

She got accustomed to Mulder not telling her everything. And lately, it started to upset her.

"Why?" she asked this morning when he told her he was going to Rome to meet a Jesuit monk.

"He claims to have knowledge on the coming apocalypse," he bit his lip. It sounded ridiculous even to him.

"I bet he does," she remarked cynically. "He'll probably quote the Bible."

"He knows about the Shadow Government," he added in a hopeful tone.

She didn't take the bait. "How old is he?" she inquired.

"85," he grimaced.

"This is not working, Mulder," she met his hazel eyes and suppressed her anger.

"Scully," he whispered.

"Just... just do what you have to but don't expect me to follow you," she cut him off.

She watched him leave without a word. He looked worried and sad. But what exactly did he expect? They couldn't overthrow the plans for colonization. And the dreaded December 22, 2012? Well, nothing happened. But he still kept things from her, went on his bizarre little trips and told her little or nothing about it. When she voiced her concerns he dismissed them instantly. But she knew. She knew when he was staring at the abyss and needed help. Tears stung her blue eyes and she rubbed them. Why did it have to be so damn hard for them?

She walked outside and faced the sun with eyes closed, wishing away all bad thoughts. She opened her eyes and took in the view. Hills covered with forests, olive trees and vineyards. If it weren't for the lives they were living she'd be enjoying it immensely. She sat down at the stone table in front of the house and leaned back in the chair. She needed some normalcy... peace...

She dozed off.

"Good morning," a warm male voice greeted her. She opened her eyes and turned back. Nicola was leaning in the doorpost.

"Morning," she straightened up. "What time is it?"

"9.30," he replied without looking at his watch.

"When did you come home?" she asked while adjusting her hair.

"Sometime around 9.00," he replied amused.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.

"I didn't want to," his lips curled. It was one of those smiles she never got tired of or used to. Honest, and yet so irritating with all the insinuations behind it.

"You should have," she replied too seriously and his smile faded.

"Where's Mulder?" he asked. He watched her with an unsettling gaze that it bothered her when she thought about it.

She looked at him with blinking eyes. "Mulder went to Rome to talk to a Jesuit monk."

"A Jesuit monk?" his lips curled again. The odds of that...

She nodded. "Why?"

"That's probably Gino. He's always preaching about the coming apocalypse," he moved to seat in front of her.

Great, she thought.

He looked at his wristwatch. "Do you have any plans for today?"

She looked at him. The shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw, his dark eyebrows and intense hazel eyes. "Nothing in particular," she answered in a rather contrite voice.

"I'm finished with work for today and I know a place that you would probably like," he looked at her hopefully. "Would you like to come?"

She smiled, finally. "I guess I have nothing else to do."

"Great," he smiled.

"Where is this place?" she asked when they walked in the house.

"Up north," he replied. "You'll see when we get there."

"Okay. Just let me get my things," she walked past him.

"Dana?"

"Yes?" she turned.

"You'd better pack for three days," he said and she looked at him. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Three days? They never went away for more than a day. "Okay."

"Ready?" he asked when she stepped in the yard. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt with short sleeves that emphasized his athletic form. Didn't he have to wear his collar, at least?

"Ready," she smiled at him. She knew she was forgetting something but pushed the thought away.

"Alright then," he took his rucksack and walked toward the road.

"We're not taking the car?" she asked surprised.

"No, we are taking the train. The station is just ten minutes from here," he explained.

"By train?" She wasn't used to trains.

"Yes, by train," he repeated, looking her in that unsettling way again. "You'll miss the view if we take the car."

She sighed. That was father Nicola at his finest.

"Come on. You won't regret it," he added.

The small station was crowded, but they went by mostly unnoticed. A couple as any other, she thought, maybe even tourists. After twenty minutes of waiting they finally bordered the train. There were some families and older people traveling on it. She wondered what they thought when they saw them together. She wasn't naïve. There were some of them who knew Nicola and were not used to see him in a woman's company with a rucksack on his shoulders.

"How come you finished so early today?" she asked him when they finally settled in their seats.

"Father Vincenzo will fill for me today. He's visiting and offered to help me."

Father Vincenzo probably doesn't know what you planned, she thought.

"What about tomorrow?" she asked. He had weddings on Saturdays in May.

"The wedding was cancelled. They told me they needed some time to think. If you ask me they won't get married at all," he said and looked at her. Their knees and shoulders were pressed together. She could feel the warmth of his body penetrate her clothes and skin.

Their knees and shoulders were pressed together. She could feel the warmth of his body penetrate her clothes and skin.

She looked at him. "What about you?" she asked, seemingly unaffected.

He looked into her eyes, losing himself in those pools of sky-blue. "What?"

"Didn't you want to get married when you were younger?" she observed his changing features.

He finally realized what she was asking him. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business," she apologized and looked away.

"I never met the right one," he said when he saw her retreat. "Maybe I simply wasn't prepared for marriage."

She turned to him. "But you told me you were engaged when you were young."

"I was. She left me for another man, got married, had three children and got a divorce ten years later," he told her.

"Sounds like you've been watching her," she teased lightly.

His jaw set. "She came to Italy after her divorce to ask me if there was still any hope for us. I was already a priest," he narrowed his head. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

She looked at his saddened face and something in her heart ached to comfort him. She would have squeezed his hand if they weren't seating in front of an old couple that knew him very well.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked softly.

"No," he shook his head and lowered his voice. "I would never have met you if I chose her."

She didn't expect that. He was trying to change the subject, surely.

"And, Dana... I'm still young," he smiled and poked her shoulder.

She chuckled and looked out of the window. She gasped when the view opened in front of her eyes.

"That's amazing."

"I told you," he grinned.

A vast valley surrounded by green and grey mountains lay in front of them with a luscious forest and a small lake. It was breath taking.

"When –?"

"In about an hour," he replied, still grinning.

She figured she had time to read and fished for a book in her bag.

He looked at her curiously.

What?" she asked when she took the book out of her bag.

"You have my book," he said.

"You gave it to me."

He felt like an idiot. Of course she had it. He gave it to her a few weeks ago and thought she wasn't interested in it. He fell silent. If something so simple could get him all excited... It was worse than he had thought.

"I'll take a nap," he announced and turned his head away from the window light and in her direction. He smiled at the old couple and closed his eyes.

She looked at him from time to time. His face was tranquil. A boyish nature was hidden below those slowly appearing wrinkles. She knew he tried to hide his personal life. He would always reply that his past wasn't interesting but she knew better. He told her one night when Mulder was away that people liked a cleaned slate. If he kept it simple the people in his parish felt safe and understood. He looked at her for approval. She didn't know why, but she told him she didn't like clean slates.

CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO

FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015

"You've got to be kidding me," she said as she got off the train. A pentagonal fortress stood tall and proud in the distance and a vast lake lay behind it. The leaves rustled in the light breeze.

He smiled to himself. "Come on, let's go. I know the keeper."

They were walking in silence when he spoke. "A young boy confided in me once that he could hear the old trees murmuring secrets of their history as he walked to the castle."

His voice felt soothing to her for some reason. "And you believed him?"

"Of course," he replied and he looked at her, "I told him first that I could hear these trees talking to me."

The trees were impressive. She had to give him that. "Right," she replied dryly and tried to keep up with his pace.

The road winding in front of them was rather dusty and the sun shone high in the sky. Her surroundings, the whole atmosphere, felt ancient and primal to her as they walked in silence. She let her thoughts travel back to a time when innocence coloured her life. Her grandmother Olive used to tell her these little stories about dwarfs, fairies, their secret lands, princes and princesses. And she believed them all. At nights she would dream about them and get scared from time to time.

"I warned you," he spoke and she jerked her head in his direction.

"Don't be silly," she whispered. She still didn't get used to the fact that he read people so well.

He saw how awkward she felt and his lips quirked up. "Just imagine all the knights that galloped around here to meet the beautiful princess in the fortress above, trying to gain her heart, win her love and marry her fortune. All the fights that took place here... all shrouded in mystery," his tone was warm, teasing.

"I never took you as a romantic type," she interrupted him.

"I'm not... I'm more the adventurous kind... twists and intrigues," he looked at her.

"So love is just a place for twists and intrigues?" She didn't really know why she had asked that.

"As far as they are pure fiction," he replied.

"Of course, you're a saint," she said under her breath.

"I heard that," he looked at her accusingly and she smiled broadly.

She was going to be the end of him.

They reached the road that encircled the fortress, its four square towers rising high in front of them. Stone on stone, all work of men, he thought. Castiglione del Lago evolved on what used to be an island – the fourth island of Lake Trasimeno. It was built by Emperor Frederick II and withstood a number of sieges over the centuries.

"I'll get the keeper," he announced.

In five minutes he returned with an older man, rather short and portly. His name was Giorgio. He showed them around and invited them to have lunch with him. He was an amusing man. Scully laughed heartily when he told her a story about a lady who was visiting the castle and ran into Nicola. He couldn't get rid of her.

Nicola chuckled but wouldn't divulge more about it. His eyes were bright but something was building behind them. Powerful and consuming.

"What is it?" she asked him when Giorgio left.

"Nothing," he replied too quickly.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" she bored into him.

"No, not all," he lied and stood up. "The lake awaits us. We'll return for our luggage later. Just take something to lie on," he said.

She arched her brow and shot him an amused look.

"What?" he asked. "I didn't mean anything... Jesus, Dana."

She chuckled and he blushed. A sweet, dangerous game they were playing.

She took a small bag and took him by the hand. His heart jumped at the unexpected physical contact more than it should have.

"Take me to the lake," she said and looked him in the eye.

"Yes," he whispered.

LAGO TRASIMENO

FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015

No wonder he came here when he was feeling down. Everything was vibrant with colour and sound. She felt energized instantly. "Thank you," she said quietly and looked at him. Those hazel eyes looked at her with such intensity that she had to look away.

She walked to the lake shore and put down the blanket. She was sensing clearly that there was something different about him and she just hoped it wasn't what she thought it was.

She sat down. "Nicola?"

He walked to her without uttering a word.

"Are you alright?" She was genuinely concerned even though she knew there was no chance he would talk about it.

"Would you like me to make a fire?" he asked after a while when they were sitting together in the shade.

She loved fire. "If it's no bother," she replied.

She watched him disappear into the trees and re-emerging with some old thick branches. He placed them together into a cone-like shape and fished for matches in his pocket.

"I was scout when I was in school," he stated while trying to ignite a fire.

"Really? Must have come in handy while at MI5," she joked.

He chuckled and cursed mentally when the fire wouldn't start.

"You must have excelled at your tasks as a scout," she teased him.

"I did," he replied.

"So what's stopping you now?" she teased him more.

"I never ignited a fire in such a good company," he gave her a look that flattened every inch of her being. Her heart stopped for a moment and her breath got caught in her throat.

"There we go!" he exclaimed when he finally managed to start the fire.

She smiled weakly. He got to her. His words sank deep into her gut, making her wonder about things she shouldn't even think about. If only Mulder would be here with her.

He gave the fire a few pokes and sat down near her.

"Are you alright?" he asked when he acknowledged her silence wouldn't end soon.

"Hm?" she looked at him. She was obviously distracted.

"What is it?" he rephrased the question.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I'm sorry," she reassured him. It was a lie, of course, and he probably knew it.

"I'm going to take a swim," he announced.

She looked at him. Now?

Oh, for the love of God. She wasn't prepared for such display of well-toned muscles. He had to work out to be in such a good shape. She looked away out of courtesy. Get a grip, she thought when he stepped into the water. That's not what you want.

"Dana!" she heard him shout from the lake, waving one hand. "Come here!"

"I have nothing to wear!" she shouted back.

He walked out of the water. "Then wear nothing," he said when he came closer to her. Drops of water were dripping down his skin and she tried real hard not to pay attention to them. "Come on! The water's great."

"I'm not going to swim naked," she stated.

"I'm not saying you should. You have your underwear, right?" he looked at her breasts.

She was speechless. He was kidding, right?

"Don't tell me you don't have any underwear on you," he feigned a breathless voice.

"Of course I do," she replied.

"Come with me then," he persisted and offered his hand.

She felt her heart pick up its beat. Could she?

She stood up and slowly removed her shirt and pants while he was standing there. She silenced her judgmental thoughts. A swim for sure wasn't immoral.

"You look good," he teased when she was done.

"Thank you," she wanted to kick his ass so badly.

His lips pursed. "You do realize that I saw naked women before?" It wasn't a question, really.

He could be so dense.

She lifted her eyes to meet his face, "Then stop looking at me as if I'm the first one."

He gasped and nodded.

She dived into the water. He was right behind her. They swam a longer distance and stopped where the water was deep and dark.

"Ahhh," she exhaled loudly. "I love it."

"How often did you say you come here?" she joked.

He chuckled. "I'll make a mental note to take you with me from now on."

"It's going to raise rumours." She didn't know what made her say it. Maybe the way they looked at them on the train or Giorgio's remark that Nicola always had good taste.

His eyes darkened slightly. "I don't care about what other people think. They don't know me, and they certainly don't know you."

"I wonder who does." She intended it to be a joke but it came out wrong.

"Clara does," he was referring to his late brother's wife.

There was a pause.

"And I know you," he added and swam around her.

"Do you now?" she asked and turned to keep eye contact with him.

He nodded, his eyes focused on her.

"Tell me," she challenged him.

He swam closer to her. "I know you're intelligent, honest and reserved."

Okay, she could take that. "What else?"

He hesitated.

"It's okay. Go on," she encouraged him.

"You're tired of this life. Tired of the search, travels and Mulder's incessant need to find a truth that is so eluding that you fear all your work will avail to nothing."

There, he said it aloud.

She narrowed her head. He was right. She was tired and afraid. This was not a life she would willingly lead. She looked at him with tearful eyes. Half accusing, half thankful.

He felt his heart constrict. "Oh, Dana," he whispered and reached for her. He pulled her into an embrace that spoke of understanding, acceptance... Love.

She sighed against his bare chest and her thighs brushed his involuntarily. It sent shivers down her spine. It caught her off guard.

"Just... let me go," she said and pushed him away.

His eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he apologized without exactly knowing what he did wrong. He let her go reluctantly and watched her swim to the shore. He followed her only after she had already reached their spot on the shore.

He walked to the blanket and grabbed his towel. She was wrapped in hers. So beautiful, so fragile. The fire was still burning. He sat down next to her and gave it a few pokes. It burned brightly. Her fingers played with a scrap of wood.

"I didn't want to upset you," he spoke softly.

She wouldn't look at him.

"Dana?" he asked and touched her hand.

Her muscles froze. She looked at him, realizing how close he was. A sigh escaped her, "I know."

"I went too far," he continued, feeling he had ruined something precious.

"I pushed you," she gazed into his eyes. "And you saw correctly."

He swallowed. He knew this was hard for both of them. He lay down on the blanket and gazed at the trees above. "None of this will matter in a hundred years from now." He had this look on his face that was telling her to let go.

I can't, she thought, and neither can Mulder.

She observed his features and let her eyes roam his body. He was attractive to a point that she had to deny it. And it wasn't just physical.

"What?" he asked.

She snapped out of her thoughts. "Nothing... How did you get that scar?" she asked to change the subject.

He looked at the scarred skin on his chest, healed a long time ago.

"I got stabbed on duty. I barely made it."

Something pierced through her. The thought that he could have died and they would have never met shocked her more than she was prepared to admit.

"The perils of our former professions," she said to lighten the mood.

"It happened a long time ago," he replied disinterested. At a time when he was an MI5 agent, and when priesthood was not even an idea.

"What about your tattoo?" He looked straight into her eyes.

She was taken aback. She didn't expect him to ask that. "It's a rather long story," she lied and hoped he would let it go.

"Is it?" he prodded.

No, she thought, but you already know that. Don't you? "I had to deal with certain decisions and patterns in my life."

"Mulder?" he asked prudently.

She looked above. It felt like the trees were shielding them. "He was only part of the problem." She was drawn to authoritative figures in her life, starting with her father, but withdrew when she began to feel smothered. The fathers, she called them.

"Do I fit the description?" he asked.

She winced. She had a hard time getting accustomed to his abilities to read others. "I don't know, do you?"

"I'm not controlling, but I am hard to deal with," he looked away from her as if afraid of what she might say.

Not any harder than Mulder or Melissa, she thought. "You're challenging. That's different."

"And Mulder isn't?"

Oh, Mulder... the Prince of Challenge. "He is extremely challenging but he's also obsessive. Something you're not."

"Are you sure?" he teased.

She smiled. "I should hope so."

"So how did a tattoo change any of it?" He wouldn't leave it.

"It didn't," her voice was almost a whisper. "I needed to do something out of character... different... I didn't want to be taken for granted."

"And you chose an Ouroboros? The eternal return?"

"I wanted something meaningful, not just ink on skin." She wasn't the shallow type. He knew that, right? "I met a man while on assignment and he just got a tattoo. I asked him to take me to the same tattooist."

She paused.

"It didn't go as planned," he suggested.

"No, it didn't," she shook her head. "He seemed nice enough... flawed enough. And I felt I could trust him. But he was under the influence of a parasite and tried to kill me. I barely survived, too... It's a scar just as much as yours."

"So transformation it is," he said after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" she was thinking about the Jesuit monk Mulder was supposed to meet.

"The Ouroboros," he reminded her, "an endless cycle and transforming that which it has ended into something new. You probably needed it at that time."

"I forget that you're a historian," she remarked, avoiding commenting her need for perpetual transformation.

He smiled, "It was always a passion."

"And since we're talking about it you should know that the Ouroboros was adopted by Christianity to symbolize the self-consuming, self-defeating, and circular nature of this world's existence."

"Thank you, Professor," she stopped him. She could use something transformative right now.

He smiled and threw a small rock toward her. An eye roll was all he got from her.

He looked at the water. The sun was starting to lose its edge. "It's getting late, Mrs Scully, we should go. Unless you want us to sleep here." He looked at her frame and a glint of something not quite predictable appeared in his eyes.

"Are you implying that we could?" she returned the ball.

"There's the blanket," he patted the soft material and his lips curled.

She knew he was going to say something utterly irritating.

"You've slept with men before, right?"

She could have pretended that it was just a joke but she knew it bothered him that she had a one-nightstand with a man she barely knew. Even if she hadn't told him directly about Ed Jerse he was clever enough to understand that something happened between them.

"What is it, Nicola? You can't grasp the idea that I slept with someone I didn't know?" her voice was edgy. "And don't tell me you never had a one-night stand in your life."

He stared at her. His eyes transpired a fiery quality. "I have no problem with your night encounters as long as you don't assume that men are all the same."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked at her, "I never had a one-night stand, Dana."

That hit her. Never? Not even once? A man like that?

"Yeah, a man like me," he added.

"Stop doing that," she complained.

His lips curled into a broad smile. "Take your stuff, and don't look at me like that."

COUNTRY HOUSE PRINCIPE DEL TRASIMENO

CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO, ITALY

FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015

It was already late when they arrived at a country house where Nicola planned to stay. She saw him furrow his brows and brush his forehead while he talked to the receptionist. Something was wrong. The receptionist took the phone and called someone, but when she was done she just shook her head.

"We have a problem," he said when he returned to her.

"Let me guess. There are no more rooms," she sounded tired.

"Well, actually, there's only one room," he replied.

Her face lightened. "And?"

"There's only one bed."

"Oh, I see." Despite all the insane things that had happened in her life so far she didn't expect she would have to share a bed with a priest. Ever.

"We can still go back to the station and wait for a couple of hours until the train arrives," he offered.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm too tired, and you should rest, too. We'll take the room."

"You sure?" he asked.

"As long as you are fine with it."

"Yes, of course," he had to suppress the sudden feeling of excitement rising in his chest.

"Thank God," she said when he lit the light and a nicely furnished room appeared in front of her eyes. It smelled of fresh linens and sandal wood.

She sat on the bed and exhaled. He pulled out his sleeping bag.

"What are you doing?" she asked surprised.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he replied and put his rucksack down.

"There's no need. The bed is big enough," she said.

"No trouble," he insisted.

"I don't want you to, Nicola." She set his eyes on him.

He looked at her. What was she saying exactly?

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," he said. It was a good reason, wasn't it?

"I will be if you sleep on the floor," she insisted more.

He bit his lip. He was certain that a priest wasn't supposed to share the same bed with a woman in a relationship. Or any other woman, father Vincenzo would add. Even with the purest of intentions in mind it didn't feel right. But he didn't look at her as at any woman for some time now. He saw her as a fiercely intelligent, beautifully complex and extremely passionate person. Someone he deeply cared about.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said when his embarrassment became too obvious. What was his problem? They were adults and, surely, they could handle a situation like this without incidents.

"Okay," he sounded drained. He started to search frantically through his rucksack when she left the room and realized he hadn't brought any pyjamas with him. He had just a pair of black boxers and a shirt to wear for the next day. That was just great.

He sat on the bed and heard the water running in the shower. His eyes widened as images of her hit him hard. He could see her figure, the water running down her body, her hands on her breasts, her hips and thighs... He shook his head. Good God, he was in deep trouble. He inhaled and exhaled only to find her out of the bathroom and in front of his eyes.

She was stunning.

"I'm done," she stated. She was wearing only her panties and a T-shirt that fitted her nicely. He gave her a grave look.

"The shower's all yours," she continued and saw his expression. Maybe they couldn't handle the situation.

Maybe they couldn't handle the situation. At all.

"Yeah, right. I won't be long," he finally replied.

She could feel his eyes on her. "Take your time."

She sat down on the bed. The sheets were clean and soft. She ran a hand over them to feel the fabric. It was then that she noticed a pair of black boxers hanging out of his rucksack. He was exasperating.

Her phone rang.

"Hey, Scully."

A warm feeling passed her heart. Mulder.

"Hey," she greeted back. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Gino's invited me to stay with him for a day or two. He says I should become a monk if I want to save my soul."

She chuckled. "You'll be the damnation of that monastery if they let you in."

"Scully!"

"What? It's the truth."

There was silence for a few moments. She felt tired.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"With Nicola," she replied.

"I didn't know Nicola became a place," he said.

She blushed. "Near Lake Trasimeno. We went on a trip," she explained without too much detail.

"Should I be worried?" he teased.

Yes, she thought. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Listen, Gino is a nice old man but I'm afraid he loves the bottle a little much. If he doesn't show me anything of substance I'm outta here."

Maybe the shadow government turned all the super soldiers into rag dolls and put Gino in charge of them. She didn't say that aloud. "I don't know why you went in the first place," she pointed out.

"Scully..." he whispered.

"Don't Scully me," she sounded irritated all of a sudden. It probably coincided with the fact that Nicola walked out of the bathroom to retrieve his boxers. He was wearing only a towel. She stared at him.

"We'll talk when I get back," he promised.

"There's nothing to talk about," she retorted.

"Sure. I heard that one before."

"And I felt like this more times than I care to remember." Was he really going to patronize her?

He sighed heavily. "Listen, I don't want to fight."

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but I don't know how else to make it clear. I'm tired of living like this," she sounded upset.

He fell silent. "Okay. I hear you."

"Do you?"

"I do," he reassured her. "Say 'hi' to Nicola and tell him that Gino sends his regards. And Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," his voice was soft.

She closed her eyes. "I love you, too."

She switched off the phone and lay against the comfortable pillows. Should he be worried? Oh, God, should he?

Exhaustion was starting to get the better of her. Her eyes were slowly closing when Nicola returned from the bathroom. Her eyes opened and she watched him stretch discreetly on his side of the bed. His muscles contracted and he exhaled loudly.

She swallowed.

He looked at her.

She blushed.

What the hell was going on?

She gazed out of the window to distract herself. The peaceful scenery was in stark contrast with her state of mind. And to be absolutely clear, she had no idea what was going on. Her pulse was getting out of control, her skin felt hot and her head started to feel slightly dizzy. Either she was about to have a heart attack or she was seriously attracted to him.

He was sitting on the bed, rearranging his pillow. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. It was too soft for his liking.

She turned to him and he smiled, totally oblivious of her state of mind.

"Did you know that this place is known for paranormal phenomena?" he asked casually.

"What?" Oh, good, she could still speak.

"People reported on several occasions that they witnessed a young woman dressed in white enter the castle's jail but never saw her leaving," his eyes sparkled.

"Could be one of the locals trying to attract tourists and their money," she offered quickly a logical explanation. Mulder's crazy theories trained her well.

"Could be," he replied and lifted the sheet.

"You don't believe it?"

He was getting too close to her.

"A man in my parish told me that he saw her walk through a thick wall," he was looking her directly in the eye. They were lying close to each other.

She stopped breathing and gazed at him. She could tell that those kind hazel eyes could see right through her.

"There's a ladybug on your shoulder," he told her and reached for the little insect. He accidentally brushed her neck with his fingers while trying to catch it. She closed her eyes.

"There," he said when he caught it. "Look how small and beautiful it is."

He neared the little creature to her eyes and inspected it carefully. She had to smile. How many men were able to display such a childlike enthusiasm towards life? He blew against the insect and it flew away from his hand.

He looked at her. She was now just inches away. "You look beautiful." His breath caressed her cheek. He looked startled by his own admission just as much as she was.

She didn't know how to respond. In fact, she had trouble focusing on anything at all. The warmth coming from his body was enveloping her tired heart so gently. He adjusted a lock of her hair that was stubbornly falling on her forehead and she shuddered.

"Are you cold?"

"A little," she lied. The blood in her veins felt hot. What were they doing?

"I can sleep on the floor," he offered again.

She didn't answer right away and he looked questioningly at her.

"Dana?"

"Yes?" she could barely breathe.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She did feel fine but something in her life was seriously wrong.

"I'm saying I'll sleep on the floor," he searched for an answer in her eyes.

"No, stay here. Sleep with me," she realized how it sounded and blushed at her poor choice of words.

She exhaled silently when he finally lay down next to her. She felt the need to touch him but scolded herself at the thought.

"That's nice, very nice," he hummed against the soft sheets and turned to look at her. "Aren't you sleepy?"

"I'm exhausted," she replied but she was afraid to lie down next to him. The bed wasn't big enough. Maybe at that moment any bed wouldn't have been big enough.

"Hmm... why don't you lie down?" he asked silently and patted the mattress.

"I'm fine like this," she replied, hoping he'd leave it at that. She didn't trust herself in that moment.

"Okay," he turned his back to her. "Just don't complain about a sore neck tomorrow morning."

She looked at his naked back and clothed ass. If the pope walked into the room at that moment he'd be facing irreparable consequences.

"Come on. I'll be a gentleman, I promise," he joked and turned his head to look at her.

She knew he'd never take advantage. The problem was she would and it bothered her deeply. She never had problems bridling her own sexual impulses.

"I'm sorry. I don't feel very well," she got up and walked to the bathroom.

She needed a cold shower. Anything cold, really. She let the water run in the washbowl and looked at the mirror. Her eyes were so dark with desire that it frightened her. She could feel the sexual tension between the two of them just as much as she felt the wooden floor beneath her feet. She thought of Mulder. When was he going to stop ditching her? She washed and towelled her face. The cold water made her cheeks look only more flushed. She exhaled loudly. She loved Mulder profoundly, but the feelings she experienced with Nicola scared her. He was unconventional. She liked unconventional. And the fact that Mulder ditched her again wasn't helping her at all. She got a hold of herself at last, but her heart felt empty.

She walked in the bedroom. Nicola was engrossed in his journal. Apparently, he wasn't as affected as she was.

"Did I ever tell you that I'm colour-blind?" he said when she lay down.

Colour-blind? "What?" she asked. Mulder was colour-blind, too.

"Yeah, protanopia. I can't see you blush," he joked and she stirred. Damn you, she thought, damn you.

"Take it easy. I can still see your brows furrow."

She looked at him, into those lusciously green eyes. She was aroused and angry. A potent mix.

"Good night, Nicola."

She turned her back to him and switched off her bedside lamp. She wanted to sleep, get lost in her dreams and forget about their day. But her traitorous brain hit her with images of the day. His warm smile, intense gazes, the way he hugged her when they were in the water, his arms around her back, her leg touching his. She opened her eyes and breathed deeply. Her T-shirt felt uncomfortable.

After a couple of minutes, he switched off the light as well and turned to his side. She didn't waste her time and carefully removed the soft garment. It felt inadequate but she didn't care. She wasn't going to parade in front of him and she could always pull the sheet over her.

They were lying silently on the bed for long moments, both pretending to be asleep. The night was too peaceful for her taste. It irritated her. She was never going to fall asleep.

"Is it hard?" she asked out of the blue.

"What?" he asked back as if he expected her to speak.

"Being a priest, not having someone by your side." She turned to him.

"God's with me," he replied.

She didn't say anything to that. She took comfort in prayers a lot since she won her battle with cancer, but not always was she able to feel a divine proximity. She turned to his side. The room was so dark she couldn't tell if he was watching her as well.

He moved then and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her. But he clenched his fist and buried his face in the pillow.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer. She just heard him breathe against the pillow.

"Nicola?" her voice sounded alarmed.

"It's okay," he replied, his voice muffled.

It was obvious it wasn't okay.

He rolled to the edge of the bed and wished he had chosen the sleeping bag. This has to end, he thought.

"I'm gonna sleep on the floor."

But before he could lift himself up she stopped him. She didn't say anything. She just grabbed his arm. He felt the passion in her grip. It spoke volumes. Was it always like this with her, he wondered.

"I can't sleep," he tried to give her an honest explanation.

"Neither can I," she said. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't," he said coldly.

She let him go.

He took the sleeping bag out of his rucksack.

"You can turn the light on," she told him.

"No, it's alright. I'm done."

But he couldn't set his mind at rest. He had things to sort out. And lately, they had a name – Dana Scully. Bitterness was wearing him down. His father told him he will know when the right one comes by. But he never knew until now and it was already too late.

She kept turning and shifting in the bed. Her muscles ached and her head felt heavy.

"Are you asleep?" he asked softly.

"No. I thought you were," she said.

"I'm not," he replied in a fragile voice.

"I didn't want to upset you."

"You didn't. I'm doing a great job at it myself."

She was silent.

"I'm not sure what I want, anymore. " he said hesitantly.

This wasn't good. At all.

"What has changed?" she had to ask. It was a reasonable question.

"It's not that easy," he shook his head as if she could see him in the dark. His eyes watered and he fell silent.

She cursed the darkness. She wanted to see the expression on his face but she didn't dare turn on the light. "Would you like to talk about it?"

He smiled bitterly and brushed his cheek. To talk about it with her was madness. He could never tell her he was in love with her.

"Nicola?" she asked softly.

"Yes?"

"Come to bed," she said.

He froze. What was she suggesting? "I'm not sure."

"Just come over here," she repeated.

He got up, slowly making his way to the bed. It was absurd how nervous he was. He looked out of the window. The night was darker than usual. He bumped into the wooden bed.

"Careful," she warned.

"I have a hidden talent for clumsiness."

"No, you don't," she said. "It's so dark in here."

He and lay down on his stomach. He couldn't look at her.

"It is hard sometimes," he spoke quietly.

She nodded slightly.

"I have my fears and weaknesses. They hit me hard at times. Loneliness is the worst."

She knew what he meant. She said once that loneliness is a choice. His was for real.

She shifted toward him, touching his arm.

He tensed.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered.

His muscles deflated under her warm hand.

"Turn around."

He turned to lie on his back. Their bodies were inches apart.

"I know how it feels like," she reassured him. "It's unbearable sometimes."

He looked at her and slightly nodded. She smiled softly and caressed his hair. He had to look away or he would have touched her, pressed her body against his.

"But it gets better from time to time. And besides, you have many friends,"

"I know. But they have their own lives."

"Everybody does."

"What do you mean?"

"You can never be so close to someone to never feel loneliness again."

"I hope Mulder gets home soon." It was a lie. He wanted him to vanish, so he could be with her forever. He shivered.

"Are you alright?"

"No," he admitted.

She stroked his shoulder and ran her hand down his chest. It sent sparks down his skin. He had to repress a groan.

"Tell me, Nicola. Just tell me," her voice pleaded him. Her hand smoothed his abdomen and stopped on his hips.

"I can't," he felt weak.

"Why?"

He swallowed hard. "I just can't." He turned on his side still facing her. He thanked God it was dark. Otherwise, his barely clothed erection would be a serious problem.

She knew the effect she had on him. She knew she should have stopped. But the attraction she felt for him jailed all rational thought. His skin felt soft and gentle, his muscles taut and strong... She couldn't let go of him. With her right hand she kept drawing lazy circles on his hip.

He felt intoxicated. His breath was coming out in hot puffs that danced against her flushed cheeks.

They stared at each other in the darkness.

She could see his eyes as if it was broad daylight. His stare was strong, magnetic. It went straight to her heart, played with her mind and found its place on her heated skin. She was sure she was about to make something bold, irrational, ultimately wrong. With her right hand she slipped over his boxers and caressed his ass.

He groaned loudly and grabbed her hand. It startled her. They were both breathing heavily. He held her hand locked on his ass cheek.

"It's me, Nicola," she whispered. She thought her chest would open.

"I know," his voice was a growl. He let go of her hand.

A bitter taste of regret settled in her throat when she realized how far they had gone. "Maybe it is better that you sleep on the floor," she turned away from him.

His eyes widened. She asked him to sleep in bed, she touched him in an inappropriate way and now she wanted him to sleep on the floor?

"I'm not your puppet," he said grudgingly.

"I never said you were," she couldn't hide her emotions. "Go sleep on the floor." She wanted it to sound as a command but it came out more as a desperate plea.

"No," he replied.

She had to admire his stubbornness. She wasn't single and he was a priest. Not that it mattered to her in that moment but it was still a fact.

"Nicola, it's not debatable."

"Everything is debatable. I thought you knew that."

"Fuck you!" Her cheeks were raging red.

"Really? That's the best you can do?" his words dug into her pride.

"You're the one who can't be sincere," she was angry, her voice cold.

He shifted and sat up on the bed. She could only see the frame of his body.

"I'm gonna go," he said.

She faltered then. She had no right accusing him he wasn't being truthful. Neither was she.

He felt the mattress move and her body right behind him. She pressed her chest against his back and her arms went around him. His skin suffered minor electroshocks when he realized her naked breasts jammed into his bare back.

"You're not going anywhere," she said and he knew it was not debatable.

"Dana," he sighed and clasped his hands with hers, pressing them to his chest.

"I know... I knew from the start," she admitted and he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way.

"I think I never loved that much," he whispered desperately. She felt her heart fall. This wasn't fair. She pressed her lips against his shoulder. Her arms held him tight.

"I have," she admitted. "I still do."

He nodded calmly but his heart wanted to explode from pain. "Don't mention him. Not tonight."

He felt her shift behind him. He said something he shouldn't have. It was logical that she would retreat now. She loved Mulder.

"I won't," she simply said and tugged at his shoulders. Her hands pulled him with her. He wanted to say 'no' but no words came out of his mouth. She hugged him in her arms and lay against the smashed pillows.

His head rested on her chest. He could hear her heart pounding below her spilled breasts.

Thump, thump, thump.

Minutes flew by. None of them spoke.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"About life and love."

"You should enter a monastery," he joked.

She chuckled and ran a hand thorough her hair.

"Do you have any feelings at all for me?" He knew he shouldn't be asking it but the question burned inside him.

She stopped her hand. "Don't ask me that."

"I need to know," he said and looked her in the eye. The moonlight was shyly lighting his features. It made his green eyes shine grey.

"It'll only be harder," she tried to reason him.

"Tell me," he squeezed her hand hard this time.

She looked into those hopeful eyes. She understood his love all too well. She fell for Mulder the same way. It felt like the need for water and sun.

"You know I'm affected by you."

His heart came to a stop. "Affected," he repeated.

She nodded.

"How?" he shifted so he could look at her face to face.

"Nicola?!" he got too excited for her taste.

"Do you think of me?"

"No!" she was blushing.

"No," he repeated and rested his head back on her chest. It was so warm there. Her breasts moved with her breathing. He wanted to cup one, run his finger over the sensitive skin, but restrained himself.

"I like you a lot. I care for you," her voice was quiet. "I like how you wonder at simple things, how you reach my heart with simple words and gestures."

"But?" He knew there was always a 'but'.

She was afraid what she may answer him. It was never easy when hearts warmed up to each other. "I'm with Mulder," she whispered. He lives inside every fibre of my being, she thought to herself.

He closed his eyes. "I understand." I wasn't easy but he did respect their love. It was rare and it gave hope.

"Do you think we could get some sleep now?" she asked him.

He placed his head back on her chest. "Yes." He felt calm at last.

Her arms went around him and he closed his eyes. Did she have any feelings for him? Yes, good God, she did. She loved him or she wouldn't have let him lie in her arms like that. But it was a different kind of love. The only thing that started to bother her each day more was the fact that it was beginning to feel much like what she felt for Mulder.

Water and sun.

COUNTRY HOUSE PRINCIPE DEL TRASIMENO

CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO, ITALY

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

She woke up first. His head lay on his pillow but his hand was still placed protectively over her stomach. She slipped away from it and got up. She put on her T-shirt. Enough skin, she thought, and stepped near the window to open it.

"Good morning," she heard a familiar voice greet her.

She turned and saw him shifting in the bed.

"Good morning," she greeted back.

"I think I'm going to start counting from zero my days from this moment on."

She chuckled and joined him in the bed. Her hand found his and she squeezed it.

"It was quite a night," she agreed.

"When is Mulder coming back?" he asked.

"Tomorrow, although Gino invited him to join the Jesuit order," her lips curled.

"That would be something," he smiled.

He looked at her then. Into the red and blue.

"Don't look at me like that," she whispered.

"Why?" he kept looking at her.

"Your vulnerability... it's freaking me out," she felt her throat go dry.

"Is it?" he was unable to stop looking at her.

Her lips opened just barely and he leaned in closer.

They both started when the phone rang.

"It's Mulder."

She exhaled heavily before answering him.

"Hey," she said.

"Scully?" his voice was grave.

"Somebody killed the monk."

"What?" she gasped.

Nicola lifted his eyebrows. Gino's dead, she told him. His eyes widened.

"Who's with you?" Mulder asked.

"Nicola's here," she replied before thinking of it properly.

"Where are you?" he sounded confused.

"I told you we were at a country house," she didn't want to discuss it. "Why would anyone want to kill a monk?"

"I don't know. But some documents are missing."

"How was he killed?" she asked.

"Someone hit him in the head," he explained.

Blunt trauma of the head, she thought.

Tell him we'll be there in the evening, Nicola told her and got on the phone to cancel his hotel reservation for that night.

She nodded and let Mulder know they were arriving.

"Gino's the one, Dana," Nicola said when she hanged up.

"What do you mean?"

"He's the reason I became a priest." He was visibly shaken.

"What?"

"Yes," he replied shortly. "There are things you don't know about me... about the time when I first arrived to Italy. It may concern Mulder, too."

She stared at him. More secrets?

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"What you seek is seeking you."

― Rumi

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back."

— Plato


	2. To Rome

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 2

To Rome

* * *

ON THE ROAD TO ROME

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

"I owe you an explanation."

She raised her head and looked at him. He'd been quiet for the better part of the drive.

Their eyes met, and there it was again. The pull that they both fought so hard to ignore. It was unavoidable now, strong and persistent in all its forbidden glory.

She supressed the want rising in her body. It was as hollow as fear and there was no place for it in her world.

She looked in front of her. The winding road went on and on like a tireless meandering river. One never knew what lay ahead. It was a suitable metaphor of her life with Mulder.

Seeing her reaction, Nicola faltered.

"You think that, when you reach a certain age, things would fall in place. You are certain that life has dealt its fair share of anguish, heartaches and failures," she spoke in a soft, resigned voice.

"Dana...," he interrupted her, uncertain of what to say.

She looked at him. The clarity of her stare was frighteningly intense. What possibly could he have said to mend the proverbial drum?

"What?" she asked in a challenging tone.

He kept his eyes on the road and sped up.

"Nothing," he replied, a hint of anger in his voice.

"So now it's _nothing_ ," she pressed further.

"It'll always be nothing." He changed gear, slowed down a bit in front of another curve, and sped up again.

She closed her eyes. It already was something.

The car was rapidly gaining speed and only adding to the tension they both felt.

"Stop it," she whispered.

He looked abruptly at her. He sensed it clearly - the supplication behind the whispered words. She lied. She wasn't just affected.

"Look at me," he said when she tried her best to avoid his eyes.

She closed her eyes.

Mulder.

It was all about him all these years. His quest, his search, his sister, his wounds. And she knew she couldn't blame him for any of it, because she was right there with him, willingly following and participating. It became her quest, her wounds.

"I can't," she whispered, seeing Mulder in her mind.

"You can't look at me?" he asked while peering at the road.

She shook her head. It wasn't intended for him.

"What?"

"I can't go on like this. It's like you said yesterday," she talked quietly. It was a personal defeat for her to recognize that. Liberating, but still a defeat.

He slowed down the car. "Why don't you talk to him?"

She sighed heavily, bracing herself. Because it's not just about the search, she thought.

"Talk to me," he said gently.

How could she talk to him? Tell him that he got hold of her heart during this last nine months? That she wasn't sure it was just friendship they shared?

"Just...just keep driving," she told him.

He sighed softly.

She never felt so confused emotionally. And she hated herself for it. Hated for not preventing it at the start. Hated that it felt so good to be able to talk to someone that understood her, other than Mulder. He became a cherished friend and Mulder confided in him, which was a blessing and a curse on its own.

But it was also the beginning of their undoing. He left her often with Nicola, giving her a poor explanation of where he was going. Her voluntary work at the local hospital was a convenient excuse first for Mulder and later for her to stay at Nicola's while Mulder went about in search of vague clues and leads. She knew he felt she was safe in Nicola's company. He was in fact very competent in everything he did.

But he was also infinitely compassionate, trustworthy and supportive. Something she needed desperately.

He could feel her soul getting more and more upset. "It'll pass," he whispered.

And she burst into a silent cry.

He turned right on a gravel road. When he killed the engine, he leaned closer to her seat and readjusted the lock of auburn hair hiding her face.

Her tears fell quietly, the pain hidden behind closed eyes. She felt his feather touch caressing her hair, the tips of his fingers making an invisible trail down her neck and down her left arm. It calmed her, made the pain disappear into sweet nothingness.

"We meet only in passing, Dana," he spoke in his gentle tone.

"Quite a passing," she replied in a weeping voice.

He smiled and nodded, reaching with his finger for her chin and turning her face towards him.

Her eyes met his reluctantly.

His lips parted as if trying to say something before changing one's mind.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head and brushed her tears away. There was something upsettingly beautiful in her eyes.

She smiled weakly and covered his hands with hers. "We should go," she said.

Or not, he thought.

He nodded, admonishing his thoughts. "To Rome, then," he announced and turned the key in the ignition.

But the car wouldn't start.

"You've got to be kidding me," he murmured.

He tried another time but nothing happened.

"It worked just fine a few minutes ago," he sounded irritated.

She tried not to laugh but couldn't hide the glimmer in her eyes.

He looked at her exasperated.

"Let me try," she offered.

"You think I don't know how to start a car?" he asked, evidently hurt.

"No," she smiled, "I would just like to try."

He shook his head and raised his hands. "It's all yours."

She sat behind the wheel, adjusted the seat with slight amusement and turned the key.

It worked like a charm.

"You can't be serious," he muttered.

"See? It just needed a woman's touch," she said, playfully.

His lips curled slightly. "Imagine that."

ON THE ROAD TO ROME

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

"You never told me why you left medicine," he said while looking intently at the road.

She lifted her brows but kept her eyes on the road as well.

"Of course I did," she replied after thinking of it for a moment.

He looked at her questioningly.

She sensed his eyes. "I told you I joined the FBI to make a difference."

"Yes, that you did, but that's not what I asked." He was really trying not to push it, but there were some gaps in her story.

"What do you -," and then it hit her. He was asking about medicine and not the FBI. She never saw that coming.

She swallowed, feeling embarrassingly exposed. Daniel, she thought, it was about Daniel.

"It was connected," she replied shortly.

"What was?" he asked, distracted for a moment.

"Leaving medicine and joining the FBI." She hoped he would leave it there.

"You mean you left medicine to make a difference at the FBI?"

No, he would not leave it there.

Kind of, she thought. "Why do you ask?"

"It just came into my mind," he replied, his voice even.

She hated lying to him. "Right," she remarked.

They were driving through a farming area. Fields of corn were moving in the breeze on both sides of the road. The sky, bluer than ever, shone in the afternoon light.

He turned on the radio and listened to the local news. Nothing about a dead monk in Rome.

And then a song began to play. Even though she didn't understand the lyrics, she knew it had to be about a love long lost. It made her think of all the unnecessary things. Her affair with Daniel, her relationship with Jack and her journey with Mulder.

She knew why she left medicine.

"I needed something different," she interrupted the silence that settled between them.

He looked at her with his eyebrow raised.

"You asked me why I left a career in medicine," she reminded him.

He nodded.

"I needed a change," she repeated, locking her eyes on the road.

"A change from what?" he asked when she wouldn't go on.

"The life I was leaving," she felt a knot forming in her throat.

She wanted badly to tell him all of it, but a feeling of betrayal grazed her heart. She had told only Mulder about her affair.

"It's like the Ouroboros," he said, interrupting her train of thought.

Her brow creased.

"This life," he explained, looking at the houses they left behind.

She looked at him.

"The repeating cycle. We live, we die, giving place to others, we love and we hate, only to forgive or seek forgiveness," he turned to her. "And we love and hate again. It never ends."

She met his eyes. And she saw it, the unmistakable love he felt for her. He was letting her see it, the light of day making it radiant and honest.

"Nicola," she whispered.

"No," he shook his head. He didn't want her to say anything. Love needed no apprehension, no judgement in his mind to be real.

"No?" she asked and looked back at the road. An old couple was crossing the street.

She slowed down and stopped the car in front of them. The old man was holding the woman's elbow. She was helping him walk.

Her lips curled slightly then and she closed her eyes. "You know already, don't you? Why I left medicine?"

He looked at her and nodded. "It wasn't that hard to figure out."

She sighed. Maybe, maybe not, she thought.

"I was very young, very stubborn and extremely naive," she said, while watching the old woman reach the other part of the street, letting the man set the pace.

"And incredibly proud," he added, eying her with the corner of his eye.

She gave him an astonished look, hiding her hurt. "Feel free to say anything."

There was that edge in her voice, that was telling him to take the challenge and back off at the same time.

He supressed a smile and said, "Drive. The road is clear."

She proceeded and clutched the brakes instantly. A kid ran across the road, smiling and waiving at the old couple on the other side.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, earning another astonished look from her.

"You have to be a new breed of priest with all the touching and swearing," she remarked, her tone intentionally mordant.

"No," he replied calmly, "you make me behave ungodly." He smiled broadly but avoided her stare.

She pursed her lips and proceeded down the road. She will give him "incredibly proud".

"I should confess to someone for being such a sinner," her voice felt like the touch of a temptingly warm palm.

His lips dropped open. "You don't mean that."

"Pride, anger, lust...," she insisted. "Isn't that more than enough?"

He stared at her, unable to voice his disbelief.

"What?" she asked, feeling in absolute control. "As any good Catholic knows, confession is..."

"Enough," he hissed.

"Yes," she hissed back, "enough."

It caught him unprepared. The look in her eyes, the stare on her face.

She didn't care she could hurt him. It was getting too comfortable to be able to joke with him, talk to him, touch him.

He pressed into his seat and closed up.

They drove without talking for another hour. But it started to feel weird and tense.

He turned on the radio and searched for a frequency. When he found it soft angelic voices filled the small space of the vehicle.

She let herself enjoy the melodic intertwining of young voices, backed by the deep humming of monks. The tune touched her deeply.

She breathed out the tension and glanced furtively at him. His head was leaning towards her, his face seemed calm, his eyes closed. He looked like a beautiful creature, coming from a far away place.

He moved and she quickly looked away.

Why, she thought, why didn't I stop it when I had the chance?

"Would you be okay if we move to an old couple's house in the town?" Mulder asked her their third month at Nicola's house.

She felt taken by surprise, "I thought this was a permanent arrangement."

"Yeah, but I thought you would feel more comfortable if we had our own place."

"Yes, I mean, there would be nothing wrong with that. There's enough money from the sale of your parents house, but..." she paused.

"But what?" he asked, confused.

"I got accustomed to this place," she replied, fully aware that she got accustomed to Nicola as well.

"So you're fine with this? Being a guest at a priest's home?" his tone was more than enquiring.

"Look, Mulder, it's not that I don't like the idea of the two of us living alone," she reassured him.

But what was it exactly, she wondered in that moment.

"Okay, okay," he nodded and smiled contented, not noticing her slightly perturbed expression.

She didn't think of it much back then. They were mere guests at a priest's home that happened to be very welcoming. That was all, she told herself.

So, why didn't she stop it right there and then?

"Because you couldn't," he replied, his voice low and grave.

She winced.

"And neither could I," he added in a softer tone.

Her hands trembled lightly. "Dammit, Nicola, you need to stop doing this."

He straightened in his seat. "I thought you didn't mind," he replied, not really caring where the conversation would go.

She didn't, in fact, mind for so many reasons. It was exciting at first, but also humbling, and he never took advantage of his gift.

"So you know my thoughts?" she asked him one evening in late October when they were sitting in his kitchen.

He raised his brows, lips slightly curled in amusement. "I know many things, but a woman's thoughts...never."

She smiled broadly, making him blush lightly.

"I do, yes, but not the way you imagine it," he explained.

She put her cup of tea down. "And how do I imagine it?"

Shadows hid his features in the dimly lit space. They made him look enigmatic, softened only by the candle light on the table.

"It's not mind reading, Dana," his voice bore a warning that had to do more with his past experiences than her question, but it did hit a spot with her.

"It's not?" she asked surprised, and trying real hard not to show how uncomfortable she felt that she got it all wrong.

"No, it's not," he assured her.

"What then?"

He sighed. "More sporadic, sometimes emotionally driven, mostly uncalled for. It's a sense of things."

"A sense of things," she repeated, thinking of it. "Was it always..."

"Present?" he offered. "Yes, since I was a child. Made me do some stupid things, too."

She wanted to know about those stupid things. "Such as?" she asked, taking another seep.

He smiled, looked at the table and raised his head again, "Told my best friend his girl was cheating on him. She denied, he didn't believe me. We never spoke again."

"Oh, my God," she commented. "A real drama."

"Nah, it was a long time ago. We were only thirteen." His smile broadened.

She laughed back. Heartily.

And just like that his secret became known to her. He read other people in a frighteningly accurate way. Just like Mulder could profile serial killers he could read into the hearts and minds of all around him.

But it was fun only to a point. And now it was getting too intense.

"I need a brake," she said and took the exit to the gas station.

She stepped out of the car and walked to the nearby tables, placed there for travellers. Thankful he didn't follow her, she sat down and closed her eyes.

She wasn't going to be a victim or a coward. She had feelings for this complicated beautiful individual who happened in her life without any warning, but she could never reconcile it with what she felt for that stubborn, unpredictable and obsessive man that rocked her world twenty years ago and kept it rocking since then.

"Oh, God, don't let me do something stupid," she whispered to herself.

She felt a light breeze and opened her eyes. Mulder was in front of her, offering her his hand.

"Mulder?" she asked, confounded to see him there. "What...?"

His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear what he was saying. She listened really hard, trying to make out the words...

"Are you alright?" she heard him say, but it wasn't Mulder's voice.

She gasped and snapped out of her reverie.

Nicola was standing in front of her, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Yes," she replied, a little out of breath, and straightened up, "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, I got a little worried when I saw you talking to yourself," he apologised.

"No, it's fine," she insisted, not wanting to explain herself.

"Okay," he replied stoically.

She fell silent. There wasn't much to say.

He bit his lip, his mental effort to make it right more than evident.

"Oh, screw it," he said and sat beside her.

She raised her head, her eyes tired.

He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him.

She sighed heavily, feeling conflicted on so many levels.

"I want you to stop," he whispered, his lips almost touching the sensitive skin of her ear. "Whatever you feel, you are doing nothing wrong." His voice was soothing her soul so gently and convincingly.

She inhaled deeply and wiped away a treacherous tear, falling down her cheek like a raindrop on barren land.

He leaned his head against hers and found her hand. He held it like a precious gift and squeezed it gently. His fingers caressed hers lightly, afraid to spark unwelcomed feelings.

"Nicola...," she whispered, raising her head to meet his eyes. The purest of green.

He looked at her, a myriad of feelings crossing his face. And love, the strongest one.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes full of conflicting emotions.

"Oh, Dana, it doesn't matter why," he said and fought back his own weak tears.

"How can you say that?" her voice was almost accusing.

"Because loving doesn't mean having," he whispered and looked in the distance. He learned that a long time ago and it helped him to go through some of the darkest moments of his life.

She closed her eyes, swallowing a bitter truth. She loved, but what did she have? A straying partner?

He held her hand, his left arm around her shoulders, and murmured gently, "It hurts so bad, but I know that love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

She closed her eyes. "Don't," she shook her head, "don't say these things to me."

He sighed softly and squeezed her hand in response.

"I saw him," she spoke.

"Mulder?" he asked confused.

She nodded, "Just now, when you saw me talking... I saw him in front of me, right here."

His brow creased.

She swallowed, "He was trying to tell me something."

"Was he extending his arm towards you?" he asked.

"Yes, he did," she was starting to feel afraid.

"We should go," he said after a moment. "He might be in danger."

APPROACHING ROME

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

"Tell me what you know," she said when she saw Rome in the distance.

"I'm supposed to keep it a secret," he began, feeling very uncomfortable to divulge a secret he kept for more than 15 years. Concern showed in his eyes.

She didn't react to that.

"I was 28 years old when I arrived to Rome. My life was a mess. My fiancé left me for a much older and richer man, my mother died unexpectedly...and I started to question things."

She knew bits of his previous life but he never told her why he came to Rome. She observed his expression, tired but unrelenting.

"I visited some relatives on my mother's side, and having nothing to return to in England, beside my job, I decided to prolong my stay and visit Rome."

He changed gear and sped up.

She was looking him intently. He was an enigma, slowly unfolding in front of her eyes.

"I met Gino in Rome," he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

She knew this was hard for him. "Go on," she encouraged him gently, placing her hand on his knee and feeling the strong muscles tense involuntarily underneath it.

He looked at her for a brief moment, afraid to take his eyes off the road.

"We spent a lot of time together, talking, confiding, laughing," his eyes glimmered with tears.

"How did you meet?" she asked.

He shook his head lightly. "In a bar near Piazza San Pietro. I asked him for directions and he asked me if I was Italian. The rest just happened."

She nodded and withdrew her hand.

"He was a Jesuit, highly educated. An erudite, really. He had answers to questions I was barely beginning to form in my head," his jaw tightened at the thought that he was killed so brutally. "He was a dear friend."

He still didn't tell her how he became a priest, but she didn't want to push him. For now.

"Mulder said he was hit in the head, right?" he asked her all of a sudden.

"Yes," her brow creased. Why was he so difficult about his past?

"I can't believe anyone would do this to him," he said more to himself than to her.

"You said he's the reason you became a priest," she wanted to sound casual but there was that edge in her voice that betrayed her.

He turned to her. His face grave and apprehensive. "That's correct."

"Why?"

He sighed. "It's a rather perplexing story."

"That won't calm my curiosity," she looked him straight in the eye.

He felt a knot in his throat.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," she reassured him.

He sighed deeply. "I witnessed miracles. Father Gino was special in many ways," he tried not to sound to dramatic.

"What exactly happened?" she asked directly.

"I saw how he cured terminal patients, made people walk again...he prayed, placed his hands on people, chanted psalms and spoke Aramaic...and it just happened," he turned to her and back to the road.

She looked at him in silence and then spoke, "He cured you, didn't he?"

He flinched and looked at her again. He couldn't lie to her. "Yes."

"Cancer?" she asked boldly.

He nodded in surprise. "As a result of radioactive contamination in North Korea. I found out just before coming to Rome. I was crushed. He saved me."

She remembered how he reacted when she told him about her trial with cancer.

"What?" he asked incredulous a few months ago.

"I fell ill when a doctor removed a chip from my neck. Cancer," she reaffirmed what she had just told him.

He couldn't even comment on it. Just nodded and left the kitchen. They never talked about it again.

"And then you decided to become a priest?" she pressed on.

"Oh, no, I went back to England, got stabbed on duty, almost died," he patted his chest where his scar lay, "quit my job after I recovered and returned to Rome."

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Father Gino was expecting me," he continued, eyes fixated on the road, "but I just wanted some peace of mind."

"What changed it?"

"I started having dreams...a voice telling me not to be afraid. I dismissed them at first as a mere resonance of all the things that happened to me. But then, one day," he paused, "it just became clear. My gift, my whole life...it all led me to that moment, that decision."

She listened to him calmly.

"You're not shocked by any of it, aren't you?" he asked.

"Did you expect me to be?" she asked back.

"Maybe. Just a little," he smiled.

She smiled back. "I had my share of miracles."

He nodded. "William?"

She closed her eyes.

"The most important one," she whispered.

He bit his lip. "Did you ever try to find him?"

She shook her head. "I was afraid of putting him in danger."

"Of course, I'm sorry." He felt silly for asking.

She sighed, "It's okay. Don't worry." She never really forgave herself for giving him into adoption, despite all the rational reasons. Mulder was right, it left them with a void that could not be filled.

"And the secret that you refuse to tell?" she reminded him.

"Right. I guess the circumstances demand I brake father Gino's trust," he said.

She nodded, waiting for him.

He stretched his neck while looking at the road. Forgive me Father.

"There's an organisation," he started but her smartphone cut him off.

She winced. "It's Mulder," she said, only half relieved.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

― Holy Bible


	3. When in Rome

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 3

When in Rome

* * *

HOTEL LUNETTA, ROME CITY CENTRE

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

20:04 HOURS

"I'm quite certain this was an inside job," Mulder said while looking down at the preliminary medical report.

Nicola lifted his brows, "What makes you think that?"

"It's a hunch," Scully interrupted them. Her slightly mocking tone earned her a hurt look from Mulder and deaf silence from Nicola.

"Am I wrong?" she asked, staring at Mulder, her posture confident as ever.

Nicola swallowed and looked away.

"I'd say it is an educated guess," Mulder replied. If he was irritated by her reaction, he hid it well.

Scully sighed, "You would say anything at this point."

Mulder's eyes widened a bit. This wasn't about hunches or guesses.

"Maybe you should tell us what you think," he replied crisply.

"No," she shook her head, "I'm not the one with answers. You should ask Nicola."

She looked at Nicola expectantly but he felt like drowning. His shoulders slouched and he could barely look at her. There was no way Mulder missed it.

But apparently, he did. "Why? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Nicola?" Scully asked into his direction.

Nicola faltered. It felt too awkward talking to both of them after all that happened between him and Scully. He felt guilty of betraying Mulder's trust and Gino's for that matter, too. He shouldn't have gone that far. And Gino's death... He felt a buzz in his head.

"What?" Mulder asked confused and extremely irritated at this point.

"I'm sorry, I need some air," Nicola excused himself and headed for the door without looking at either of them.

Scully stared at him in disbelief.

"Scully?" Mulder asked when Nicola left the room.

Her jaw set, "I'm gonna check on him."

She had to. Even though Mulder exhaled loudly and nodded reluctantly, she left the hotel room and walked down the stairs.

This wasn't going well. She had to do something.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked when she saw him pacing in front of the hotel.

He started for a second and relaxed after seeing her caring expression.

"I'm sorry...I couldn't," he paused and exhaled.

"You couldn't...?" she reached for his hand.

"I can't be the cause of your disagreement," his tone was weak, barely controlled.

"No," she shook her head, "you're not the cause. And it's not the first time that we've exhausted each other."

"I broke his trust," he almost whispered it, as if saying it aloud would disclose how disgusted he was with himself.

"Not any more than I have," she reminded him.

"You don't understand. I promised him something and didn't keep my promise."

"What are you talking about?" Again. She was again being kept in the dark.

He stood quiet. There was no way to make this right. "I'm sorry," his eyes bore the vulnerability of a scared child.

She had no control over herself when it came to seeing him this weakly. Only an unbearable need to hug him existed and it gripped her flesh badly.

They stood there, looking at each other as if the whole world ceased to exist. It was terrifying and completely absorbing at the same time.

She was about to pull him closer to her when she heard tires screech nearby.

What the hell?

She looked to her left and saw the doors of a black SUV open. It all happened too fast. Mulder came rushing down on the street, yelling at both of them.

Men with firearms, clad in black tore Nicola from her and pushed him in the vehicle. He shouted at them and fought back hard. Mulder tried to stop them, as did she as soon as she regained control of her surroundings, but they failed miserably. Unarmed and shocked they just stared at each other when the SUV sped up the street.

QUESTURA DI ROMA

SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015

20:46 HOURS

"What is happening, Mulder?"

She was scared and deeply upset. Questions were running through her mind obsessively. Why did they take Nicola? Who were they? What did they want?

"I don't know, Scully. But I'm certain it's linked to father Gino's death," he was going through the police report of Gino's murder again.

"They knew each other very well. They were friends," her voice was crushed.

"I know, but he wouldn't tell me anything more," Mulder complained.

She nodded. "He told me, although reluctantly."

He looked at her. "You talked about it?"

"Yes. Why?" she asked, surprised at his question.

He lowered his head. "I asked him to let you out of it."

"What? Why?" her tone rose. "Mulder?"

He looked her with a defeated face. "I saw how you liked working at the hospital. I didn't want to take that away from you."

"Mulder?" That was the reason? And then it hit her hard. Oh, my God. The kids in the hospital...

"This is about William, isn't it?" she asked perplexed.

He nodded with tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Mulder," she reached for his hand and squeezed it.

He closed his eyes, "He is a teenager now."

She nodded. "I miss him terribly, too. But you shouldn't have involved Nicola."

He looked at her, pain evident in his eyes, "I did it to protect you."

"I don't need protection, not like this. After all these years, after all we've been through, and we're still arguing over the same thing," she looked back at him, her eyes clear, her face tired.

"Scully," Mulder pleaded.

"Mr Mulder?" an Italian officer interrupted them.

He looked at him, "Yes?"

"I'm commissario Diego Poggia," he extended his hand.

"Sir," Mulder shook his hand. "This is my partner, Dana Scully."

Poggia greeted her politely and invited them into his office.

"My colleagues have informed me what happened. I know father Nicola very well. I'm taking over the case," he explained while reading the field report. His voice, strong and calm, was in evident contrast with his lanky form. Scully guessed he had to be an athlete in his younger years.

"We believe father Nicola's kidnapping is connected with father Gino's death," Mulder followed Poggia with his eyes as he moved around his office.

"Yes, yes," Poggia quickly replied.

Scully raised her brow as she looked at Mulder and then at the police commissioner.

"Sir, we may have some important information about father Nicola's kidnapping," Scully added.

"Such us?" Poggia turned to look at her.

Mulder jumped in, "We may help you with the investigation. We're-"

Scully touched his hand, "We're father Nicola's friends."

Mulder looked at her and then nodded slightly in understanding.

"How do you know him?" Poggia inquired.

"I'm an extremely religious person," Mulder replied nonchalantly. "We just clipped."

Poggia stared at him. Hints of anger and nervousness showed in his eyes, but he controlled them instantly.

Mulder smiled innocently at him.

Commissioner Poggia's lips quirked up. "I really appreciate your offer, Mr Mulder and Ms Scully. And if you want to help, I'd ask you to go back to your hotel room and leave us do our job."

"Do you have an idea on what actually happened?" Scully pressed.

"I do. A terrorist group kidnapped a Catholic priest. So sad the times we live in," Poggia stated.

The son of a bitch! Mulder clenched his fingers into a fist, which Poggia would have seen if Scully hadn't been covering it with her hand.

"That's a possibility, of course," Scully commented, and before Poggia could say anything more she thanked him and ushered Mulder out of his office with her.

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

00:54 HOURS

"Dammit," Mulder cursed. "No one is giving us any information."

"We're foreigners, Mulder. What did you expect?" she asked calmly.

"Well, something! A man was murdered and another one kidnapped. And they are labelling it as terrorism!" he was shouting now.

"You need to calm down."

"He's out there, Scully. And God only knows what they are doing to him," he replied angered.

"He's former MI5. He worked in the field for seven years," she tried to reason with him.

"He's alone, unarmed and he's been out of the field for more than 15 years," he fired back.

"Stop it," she raised her voice, "you know we're not FBI anymore. We can't help with the investigation, we can't give orders or expect anything from local authorities."

"I won't sit on my ass, doing nothing, while he's out there," he warned her.

"I'm not saying you should," she assured him.

He wanted to say something back but refrained. "What do you have in mind exactly?"

She leaned on the table with both hands. "We lead our own investigation."

Mulder's eyes sparked. "Okay," he said slowly.

"Tell me what you saw," she said. "You had a different view."

"You were standing real close to Nicola and holding his hand. He was looking at you when a black SUV came up the road."

She nodded, thinking what he had thought when he had seen her that close to Nicola.

"Two men jumped out of the SUV, dressed in black and masked. I rushed down immediately," his forehead creased. "What about you?"

"I noticed one man had a tattoo on his left hand and the other one a scar on his chin," she replied. "And the one with the tattoo had a funny body odour. Fruity."

"Do you think it means something?"

"It might. Could be diabetes," she explained.

"That's good, Scully."

She looked into his hopeful eyes and smiled. It felt like old times.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"He had told me something before they took him," she looked at him, hoping he would tell her the truth.

"Go on," he encouraged her.

"He told me he betrayed your trust - that he didn't keep his promise," she looked him straight in the eyes, almost afraid of the secret he kept from her.

"What?" Mulder asked, feeling utterly confused.

"Mulder, please, just tell me truth." She couldn't live like this. Protecting her was one thing, but manipulating her was a whole another story.

"I am telling you the truth," he insisted, his body showing clear signs of impatience.

"Then what the hell is he talking about?" Her tone grew impatient, too.

"How am I supposed to know?" he asked, outraged. "I only told him to keep you out of trouble so that you wouldn't worry about every lead I was pursuing and you could work at the hospital without distractions."

Oh, God, this was insane.

"This doesn't make any sense, Mulder!" she was shouting now, her eyes red from an impeding emotional breakdown.

"Scully, I wouldn't lie to you," his eyes held a seriousness one just had to believe.

She sat down on the chair. "What then?" she asked, feeling the weight of the situation settle on her shoulders.

"Looks like father Nicola had secrets neither of us knew about," he pointed out in a calmer tone.

She absent-mindedly bit her lip. Was she really that wrong about him? No, she shook her head slightly, he couldn't be a traitor. Not Nicola, not after what they shared.

"Think of it, Scully," there was urgency in Mulder's voice.

She looked at him with clouded eyes, but he wouldn't let himself get confused or emotional. That was the Mulder she knew, the Mulder she fell in love with.

"A former MI5 agent comes to Rome and just happens to meet one of the most important people of the Jesuit order of that time. They become friends, they meet often, they talk of innumerable things, most of them personal. The young agent becomes a priest, and almost 20 years later the Jesuit priest gets killed. And his friend comes rushing to Rome and gets kidnapped."

He had a point. The story was way out of the ordinary. She tried in vain to make sense of it.

"There's something you should know," she looked him in the eye.

Mulder's attention peaked. "I'm listening."

"When we were driving to Rome Nicola mentioned an organisation in connection to father Gino. A highly organised group of people within the Jesuit order," she explained.

Mulder's eyes widened. "The Holy Brotherhood of Soldiers and Pilgrims?"

"Yes," she nodded, astounded. "How do you know about it?"

"Father Gino mentioned it, too," Mulder replied.

That couldn't have been a coincidence.

"It is supposed to be a secret," Scully stressed.

"Yes, but something changed in the last few days and made father Gino extremely upset. That's why he reached out for me," Mulder explained.

"Why didn't he talk directly to Nicola? Why you?" Scully asked sceptically.

"He said he didn't want to put him in danger. I believed him."

Scully thought of it. It was a plausible reason.

"Did Nicola say anything else?" he asked.

"Yes–," she started but got interrupted by Mulder's ringtone. An unknown local number was flashing on the screen of his phone.

"Mr Mulder?" Poggia asked.

"This is him," Mulder replied.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour. Commissioner Poggia speaking. We've found father Nicola's phone in Piazza San Pietro. It was probably tossed out of the vehicle. We're going through its content now," Poggia explained.

"Thanks for keeping us updated, sir," Mulder thanked him and turned his phone off.

"What is it?" Scully asked confused.

"He said they've found his phone," Mulder smiled.

"That can't be, his phone is here. He left it at Hotel Lunetta and I took it with me."

"Exactly," Mulder smiled. "Which means it was either planted or Poggia is waiting to see our next move and there is no phone."

But Scully wasn't so quick at making conclusions. "What if he had a spare phone?"

Mulder paused. "Do you really believe that?"

"No, but it would make sense he had one if he had such secrets," she reasoned with him.

Mulder nodded. She could tell he was upset with Nicola. But there was nothing they could do tonight, especially not after Poggia's call.

"But if Poggia is setting us up, let him believe we are falling for it," she suggested.

"And how are we supposed to achieve that?" he asked amused.

"By doing nothing, just like them." There was a glimpse of fire in her eyes.

Mulder's lips turned up at the corners, "We do as the Romans do."

"Precisely," she agreed. "And now I wouldn't mind getting some sleep," she said and stood up.

"I'll be right with you," he replied.

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

01:35 HOURS

The room was spacious and the bed looked quite comfortable. She thanked God that for once in a while they weren't in some seedy hotel room.

"I'm going to take a shower," she looked over her shoulder, seeing him undress.

God, he was magnificent. It looked like age didn't touch him at all. His face was mature but smooth, his skin soft and his muscles taut.

She headed for the luxurious bathroom and left him alone.

He knew better than to follow her.

When hot water hit her tired body she exhaled profoundly. She let her muscles relax and eyes close. If she only could make it all go away. The pain, doubt and guilt.

She poured some shower gel in her hand and gently spread it over her neck, down her chest and belly, slowly, enjoying in the sweet scent of almonds and olive oil. She let her hands roam over her body with no hurry. Arms, back, hips, thighs. She was washing away the frustration and welcoming the pleasure of a few moments alone.

Images of Nicola and Mulder intertwined, dissolved and formed again. They were both so male, both so sensitive, both so frustrating. She tried to accept her feelings for Nicola, whatever they were. But she couldn't accept the attraction she felt for him.

She opened her eyes.

No, the attraction was dangerous, and the way she saw it – it was only a response to the lack of intimacy she experienced with Mulder. She told herself that repeatedly, but it was getting harder and harder believing it.

But Mulder. Oh, God, Mulder.

He was under her skin, in her blood, down to the last cell of her body.

Her hand drifted between her thighs and she cupped herself to ease the tension that gathered within her. Her eyes closed again.

I need you.

She opened her eyes and let the water wash away the soap. Her skin felt alive, vibrant.

Mulder was lying in bed, naked from waist up, when she exited the bathroom. His fingers were going relentlessly through pages of the police report.

"You know, they never told us who called in father Gino's murder," he said when he heard her footsteps. "It was a young Jesuit who just finished his studies in medicine."

She didn't reply, and when he turned to her she could hear his gasp.

She was wearing only her white panties.

He straightened up, not knowing what else to do.

"I need to feel you close," she whispered desperately. Her heart and body ached for his love.

He uncovered the sheet for her and offered his hand.

A shy smile spread across her lips, but died all too soon.

"Come here," he managed to say and pulled her into a warm embrace.

"I miss you," she whimpered against his chest.

"Shh, it's okay," he reassured her. "I'm here." He ran his hands over her bare back, pressing her tightly to him.

Tears fell down her cheek and he kissed them away.

She wanted to dissolve in his arms, now and forever. His hands caressed her skin so lightly, so gently. His lips touched her forehead and lingered there.

"I'd like to stay like this for as long as possible," she whispered and searched his eyes.

He smiled, "You can."

She placed his cheek against his chest and kissed the warm skin. He was the man she loved despite all and that night nothing else mattered.

Soon she drifted into sleep.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair and closed his eyes.

Little did they know what next day would bring.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the colour of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty."

― Pablo Neruda

"Trust no friend without faults, and love a woman, but no angel."

― Doris Lessing


	4. Soldiers and Pilgrims

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 4

Soldiers and Pilgrims

* * *

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

01:43 HOURS

"Nicola!" she shouted in the night, bolting up in bed. Her throat ached, her chest heaved. Where was she?

"Scully?" Mulder got up from the table, his laptop the only light in the hotel room.

She was confused, almost frantic.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured her. "You were having a nightmare."

"I saw him," she breathed hard, "in a dark room, underground, restrained... screaming in terror. Father Gino showed it to me. The room. I feel - I don't know..."

Her eyes showed only fear. A fear Mulder knew all too well.

"It was just a bad dream," Mulder tried to calm her, sitting beside her.

"No!" she raised her voice.

Mulder looked at her, "No?"

"It... it felt real," she sobbed lightly.

"I know," he reached for her hand and pulled her in his arms.

She sighed against his shirt and pressed her cheek hard into his chest. "What were you doing?" she asked when she saw his laptop on the table.

"Looking for old warehouses, abandoned places, even catacombs," he smiled and leaned his head on one side. "I couldn't sleep."

"Find anything?" she asked.

He leaned back, "I don't think so."

"Let me see the catacombs," she shifted and he fetched his laptop.

She looked at the screen and her eyes widened. "Mulder," she whispered and looked at him shocked.

He shook his head in confusion. "This is what you saw in your dream?"

She nodded and looked back at the computer screen. "It was one of these underground places."

"Wait," he took the laptop in his lap and typed something. "Do you recognize any of them?"

Images of ancient Roman catacombs and crypts were staring back at her. She watched intently each one of them. Having been raised in a Catholic family and attended a Catholic school she knew something about their history.

"Remember when I told you about Sister Callahan?" she asked him while scanning the images with her eyes.

"The twisted sister?" his lips curled up.

"Yes," she smiled, remembering the time he told him about the Lazarus Bowl when they were investigating the death of Micah Hoffman. "The crypts and catacombs of Rome were one of her favourite subjects."

"Of course," he murmured and gave her an apologetic look.

"Anyway," Scully continued. "Sister Callahan was rather dramatic in her presentations of facts. She came in the classroom with an old human skull and told us that thousands like that lay under Rome."

"You're kidding, right?"

She smiled and shook her head, "No, it was her way to make sure we didn't forget her teachings. We just gaped at her."

"I bet you did," Mulder smirked.

She smiled again, bits of their former lives as agents coming back to her. It felt good.

"And what exactly she wanted you to learn?" he asked.

"As far as catacombs and crypts were concerned – everything," she replied. "She was intrigued especially with early Christians who were persecuted for their religious beliefs and practiced their faith in secret. She told us they took refuge in catacombs in different parts of Rome. It wasn't just a place to burry the dead."

"Imagine her disappointment when she learned they weren't secret meeting places to survive persecutions, but burial tunnels, just like the Jewish ones," he remarked.

"Yeah, I don't think she really bought that," she replied. "Oh, and the Capuchin Crypt," she pointed out. "It was Sister Callahan's favourite." Scully showed him a photo and he almost gasped. It was...horrifying.

"Is that what you saw in your dream?" he asked perplexed.

"No," she shook her head, "it was far more simple and narrow. There were steps leading down... probably just a figment of my imagination."

She searched through the images again and stopped.

"This is it," she looked at Mulder with eyes wide.

"Domitilla's catacombs?" he read and looked at her.

She nodded in shock. How could that be? It was just a dream. She didn't even know father Gino when he was alive. And then the vision she had of Mulder when they were driving to Rome with Nicola. What was happening to her?

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

"Yes, I'm positive," she replied while examining the picture and reading the description. She repressed all fears, they weren't of any help. Ever.

"Then we should go. Now." He got up to make his point.

She followed him with her eyes. Now? "What about commissioner Poggia? How do we get rid of him?" she asked.

"We take the fire stairs and exit the building on the other side of the street. We improvise along the way."

Improvise along the way. She knew how his past improvisations went. They could get in trouble, face criminal charges or get hurt in a foreign country. But on the other hand - this was as good as it could get.

"Okay, I'll get dressed."

Ten minutes later they were looking down the street to see if Poggia's men were anywhere near.

"See the blue van up there? I think it's them," Mulder placed his hand protectively over her shoulders.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"Follow me," he tugged at her elbow and started walking toward the van.

"What are you doing? Mulder?!" she hissed, following him. "You don't know who they are. What if it isn't Poggia?"

He would have none of it. "Trust me," he replied.

They walked to the van together and he knocked on the darkened window. It opened slowly. An Italian officer looked at him quizzically.

"Good evening, officer," Mulder greeted him, his arm over Scully's shoulders. "Please inform your boss that we are headed to Circolo degli Artisti. My partner is in the mood for some dancing."

The young officer looked dumbfounded and just nodded. Mulder flashed him his smile and walked to the entrance of their hotel where a cab was waiting.

"Now what?" Scully asked when they sat in the cab, feeling bewildered.

"We go to the Circolo," Mulder looked at her, a smile playing across his eyes.

CIRCOLO DEGLI ARTISTI, ROME

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

02:21 HOURS

Fifteen minutes later they were at the night club father Gino told him about.

"Don't ever think we don't know about life's pleasures. We just tend not to take them too seriously, revolve our lives around them," father Gino told him two days ago when they were having lunch together and Mulder asked him about his younger years.

"I know you're human," Mulder replied with a smile on his face.

"Indeed," he agreed, "and we're also happy to have strong connections with today's youth. Some of mine students play and sing at Circolo degli Artisti."

"Circolo degli...," Mulder tried.

"...Artisti," father Gino helped him. "It's a famous night club here in the city. You should take Ms Scully to dance there. I will tell Marco and Rosa you're a friend of mine."

"Is Marco here?" Mulder shouted over the music to the bartender. Scully took a look at the crowd around them.

The bartender nodded and waved his hand to a handsome young man across the counter.

Marco waved back and approached Mulder and Scully.

"How can I help?" Marco asked.

"We're Gino's friends," Mulder explained.

Marco nodded in appreciation. "Mr Mulder and Ms Scully?

"Yes- How do you know?" Scully asked.

"Father Gino told me about you. He told me you might contact me and said I should help you if need be," he replied, looking around and waving at a young girl.

Scully looked at Mulder questioningly.

The young brunette introduced herself as Rosa.

"We do need your help," Mulder confirmed.

Marco nodded, "Come with me."

They took the stairs and entered a smaller office above the club.

"What exactly do you need?" Rosa asked Mulder.

"We need to leave our cell phones here to avoid being traced by anyone," Mulder explained and Rosa nodded taking both mobile phones in her hands.

"But keep them turned on. We want whoever is following us believe we're here," Scully added.

Mulder gave her an amused look. He knew she would have figured out why they came there.

"No problem," Rosa assured her.

"I know we're asking a lot," Scully traded carefully, "but there's something else we need."

"Anything for father Gino," Marco replied. "He was a remarkable man, a friend."

"We need to get to the Domitilla's catacombs. Now," Scully said in a hopeful tone.

Mulder stared at her. Was she trying to make fun of him?

Marco smiled broadly, "Actually this isn't a problem at all."

Scully smiled back, thankful that a considerable obstacle was not an obstacle anymore.

"Meet me in the back alley in five minutes," Marco instructed them.

"How did you know he could get us in?" Mulder asked her in the darkened alley, outside the night club. There was no one there, not even the blue van.

"You're asking me that?" she asked back incredulous.

"What do you mean?" Mulder's forehead furrowed.

"You don't see it, do you?"

"What?" Mulder asked again, hating he couldn't see whatever she saw.

She sighed silently. "Father Gino knew something was about to happen and made sure you'd get all the help you needed if it all went south. He didn't call you just to go over some old dusty documents about the end of times."

Mulder stared at her, "And you just knew Marco had access to Rome's catacombs?"

"No," she looked him in the eye, "that was an educated guess."

Mulder rolled his eyes and nodded.

Her lips curled up slightly. She got him. "He's probably a history student or knows someone that studies history, otherwise Gino wouldn't have contacted him. And besides, I asked both of them. I didn't know Marco was the one to have access."

"They were both students of father Gino," Mulder told her and looked at her with guilty eyes.

"You knew it?" she asked. "You've got to be kidding! What are you doing, Mulder? Testing me?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Well, it feels like it," she complained.

"Look, I didn't have the time to tell you, I just acted on what I knew," he tried to justify his actions.

"And you didn't make the connection yourself?" she raised her brow.

"I guess I thought it was all more random. But you're right, Gino probably predicted all of this." And then he dropped his voice a little, "Do you think it is a set up?"

"I don't know," she replied and crossed her arms. "We should take into account that we know very little about the whole situation."

Mulder had to agree.

Her expression dimmed suddenly. "Do you think we'll find him?" There was a sadness in her eyes he hadn't seen in a long time.

He felt helpless. "I don't know, but I do know we will do all in our power."

She brushed away a tear and nodded.

"Ready for a walk?" Marco appeared in the doorframe.

CATACOMBE DOMITILLA, ROME

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

03:22 HOURS

A white SUV was parked not far away from the entrance to the catacombs.

"Look," Mulder pointed out the vehicle.

"I see it," Scully whispered back, clueless of what exactly were they going to do. "Looks like they switched vehicles to cover their tracks."

"Yeah, and looks like your dream might not be just the fruit of your imagination," Mulder whispered and looked at her.

She stared at him, her state of denial eclipsed only by her unbearable need to find Nicola alive.

"I must warn you," Marco cut the silence, "the tunnels are among the most extensive in Rome and very spooky. Let's just hope whatever you're looking for is in the network of tunnels that are accessible."

Scully's jaw set. "We're looking for father Nicola."

Marco's eyes widened, "Father Nicola?"

"Do you know him?" Scully asked.

But he was too perplexed to answer. "First father Gino's death and now Nicola..."

"What do you know about father Gino's death?" Mulder asked.

"I reported it," Marco replied.

Confusion set on Mulder's face. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did. I found him laying in a pool of blood around his head. I called the police and fled. He told me not to get involved with the police if something happened to him. I thought he was messing with me."

Scully sighed and looked at Mulder. It was now clear that they could trust no one. The police report, commissioner Poggia's role, the findings of the autopsy were all fabricated to serve yet unknown interests.

"Look," Scully pointed her finger at a man dressed in black, much like the men that took Nicola away, exiting the catacombs and walking toward the white SUV. "What are we going to do?" she asked Mulder. "They are armed and probably trained in some sort of combat."

Mulder turned to Marco, "You know how to move inside the network of tunnels that are not for the public?"

"I'm one of the guides," Marco smiled. "But we should start with the small portion that is public. I really doubt that whoever is holding father Nicola knows the tunnels that well."

"Why are you so certain of it?" Scully asked.

"Because no one is allowed to explore the Christian catacombs in Rome without special permission from the Vatican, and it's not easy to get such a permission. The men that kidnapped Nicola would need a detailed map to move around the less known tunnels. I sincerely doubt they have it since it doesn't exist," he explained.

"But you do know them?" Mulder asked.

"I know them by heart," Marco's eyes lit.

Mulder looked at Scully, his lips curling up. "I have a plan."

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

18:04 HOURS

She couldn't believe she was looking at him, resting in bed. Safe now.

Mulder's idea to search for the stairs she saw in her dreams was bold but right. They found Nicola lying on the ground, exhausted, face bruised and eyes closed, only a few steps further down the stairs. He was tied to a hook-like object in the ground.

Her insides screamed at the sight of him. Marco and Mulder jumped to help him.

The man who watched over him was going to wake up with a severe headache and a possible concussion from Marco's choke and blow. It turned out he was not only a postgraduate history student, tourist guide and an amateur musician, but also a kung fu enthusiast with a few medals in his pocket.

They made sure there was no one else around and dragged Nicola out through a series of tunnels. "Move him slowly," she warned them as they walked the narrow dark corridors. She could tell Nicola was hypothermic. His lack of coordination, drowsiness, weak pulse, shallow breathing and pale skin were a clear sign of severe physical distress. He needed to get warm soon or he risked death by organ failure.

The tunnels eventually led them to the Basilica of San Lorenzo di Verano. It was a slow and difficult walk and ascent because of Nicola's condition. He was in and out of consciousness, barely acknowledging what was going on. Mulder and Marco carried him or helped him walk all the way back to the Circolo.

And every time he regained consciousness he called her name. She pretended she didn't hear it. It was barely audible, a soft slurred plea more than anything else, but Mulder heard it and looked at her. There was understanding in his eyes but also a question that shouldn't have been there to ask. She expressed only concern and mentally pushed aside unimportant matters.

"He's in shock. We need to get him to the hotel now," she urged when they reached the Circolo.

"I'll go get Rosa. She has a car," Marco replied without hesitation.

Twenty minutes later they were carrying Nicola to the hotel room, Marco giving the concierge only a shrug and an apology in Italian over his drunkenness. The concierge nodded unfazed.

When they entered the room she rushed to the bathroom to fill the bathtub with warm water.

"He's hypothermic," she explained while quickly taking off her jacket and lifting her sleeves.

"But he's not shivering," Marco remarked, suddenly feeling extremely worried.

Nicola lay on the couch, seemingly unconscious again.

"Which means, taking into account all the other symptoms he exhibits, his state has worsened," she replied without emotion.

"You're a doctor," he realized and felt silly instantly.

Mulder searched for warm blankets with Rosa and placed them on the sofa near the bed.

"It's okay," Scully reassured him. "'You've been more than helpful. And now I'll need you to get him up. Rosa, I'll need you, too."

"We've got him," Mulder intervened and helped Marco.

She walked in the bathroom and Rosa followed her. She closed the curtains and adjusted a chair near the tub. Rosa waited for her instructions.

"Sit him down," she touched the chair and Mulder slowly lowered him down while Marco made sure he didn't slip. She noticed how carefully Marco handled him but dismissed the thought as she did everything else that wasn't urgent and in direct connection with Nicola's wellbeing. "I'll take it from here."

Marco nodded reluctantly and exited while Mulder lingered for a moment. She sensed his uneasiness but the last thing she wanted was having him around while she gave Nicola a bath. "It's okay. Rosa will help me," she reassured him.

"Okay," Mulder nodded. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"Just make sure no one followed us," she reminded him. "And don't forget about the phones."

"They're in my bag, switched on," Rosa cut in.

"Right," Mulder replied and walked out.

"Help me get him undressed," she told Rosa.

Nicola mumbled something as she lifted his sweater over his head. The warmness of the hotel room must have alleviated his symptoms a little because he didn't look as pale as he did when they arrived. She tried not to admire his defined naked torso and just went for the zipper.

"Lift him up a little," she instructed Rosa. Apparently, she didn't have any problem with the whole situation.

She removed his jeans, leaving him dressed only in his grey boxers. His chest was heavily bruised on the left side. A bluish contusion spread over the lower ribs and under his arm. The cut on his thigh had stopped bleeding but needed some cleaning. His right cheek was matted in dry blood and his lower lip was ruptured. What the hell did they want from him?

"Nicola, can you hear me?" she opened his eyelids and he reacted by focusing his eyes on her.

"Dana," he whispered.

"Yes," her voice softer now. "We'll get you in the tub now. You need to get warm."

He slowly nodded.

"Hold his shoulders," she told Rosa and took his left leg in her hands, placing it over the edge of the tub.

"Now, I need you to lift him up and slowly slide him into the water. I'll hold his other leg up."

Rosa did as told and let Nicola slowly slip in the warm water while Scully placed his other leg over the edge of the tub.

He gasped lightly as the water engulfed his beaten body. His arms lay beside his body lifelessly.

"Stay with me," she whispered and he moaned in pain.

"Can you fetch me some painkillers? They should be in my bag," she told Rosa.

Rosa disappeared in the bedroom and Scully relaxed for the first time since their trip to the catacombs. She just wanted some privacy with Nicola.

She took the washcloth, hanging on the roller, and soaked it in water and soap. "I have to clean your wounds."

He nodded weakly again and rested his head against the cold bathroom tiles above the tub.

She touched the wounded skin on his face carefully, trying to assess the damage. The dried blood started to dissolve as she cleaned around the wound. The skin was badly scratched and slightly split around the cheekbone. It looked like he was pushed or fell to the ground head-on.

"It's not deep," she assessed. "You won't need stitching."

He winced when she proceeded to his lips and cleaned the dry blood around the edges of the wound. She wished she had her medical suitcase with her. The skin was ruptured and swollen. He probably took a blow from one of his kidnappers.

She was intently focused on the painful spot when he reached up with his right hand, past her arms and cupped her right cheek.

She flinched unintentionally and met his hazel semi-opened eyes.

He brushed her cheekbone gently with his thumb and ran his hand down her neck, finally letting it rest on her shoulder.

"How are you?" he whispered.

She exhaled silently. "Fine, I'm fine," she repeated to make it more credible, but she knew he saw right through her. "Are you cold?" she managed to ask him.

"Thirsty," he replied weakly.

She got up and moved to the sink when Rosa walked in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, "I had to go to the reception to get the painkillers. There weren't any in your bag."

Scully was ashamed of lying to the young girl just to buy herself more time with Nicola, but she couldn't manage well her response to his distress. And less so if someone watched her up-close.

"It's okay. Thank you," she said and filled the glass, standing on the sink, with water.

She had summoned all her willpower not to collapse when they had found him in that dark catacomb, lying lifelessly on the ground. And she was summoning it again now not to crawl into that tub and cling to him for dear life. She didn't know if it was good or that bad that it had nothing to do with how she felt for Mulder. These feelings... They just came to her. But no one had to know how desperate her hands were when she tended his wounds and how helplessly her eyes observed him when he didn't look.

"Hey, I know you," Nicola rasped. The faintest smile crossed his bloodied lip.

Rosa looked at him and smiled, "Welcome back."

Scully looked at them. "Why am I not surprised that you two know each other?"

Rosa blushed a little. "Marco and I have known Nicola for a very long time."

"You hid it well back in the car, not to mention Marco," Scully noted, making Rosa feel very uncomfortable.

Nicola looked at Rosa and nodded. "You can tell her."

Rosa looked at Scully a little afraid and embarrassed. "Father Gino is - was my uncle." A tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly. "It was a well kept secret until now. Uncle Gino wanted it that way. And Marco, well, Marco," she hesitated and looked at Nicola.

"It's okay, Rosa," Nicola reassured her, knowing he will have to do a lot of explaining later.

"Marco is father Nicola's son," Rosa revealed.

Scully felt the glass of water slip from her fingers and thump against the thick bathroom carpet. "What?"

"It's not what you think," Nicola warned her.

"I'm not here to judge," Scully replied calmly, picked the glass up and poured water in for a second time. She turned to Nicola, offering him the water and a small white pill. "Here, you won't feel so much pain."

"I like pain," he rasped, "it makes things real."

"Do you want me to press on your ribs... see how real it can get?" Her voice was dry and full of suppressed anger. Apparently, judging came on its own.

He cringed and took the pill.

His son? His son? She wasn't mad he had a son, shocked maybe, but the thought that he didn't tell her when she told him so much about William. And yet, she knew that all the anger and frustration came from a place of deep care for him, even love.

"So, you are father Gino's niece?" she asked Rosa who was still standing uncomfortably near the bathroom door when she calmed her raging thoughts about Nicola.

"I am," she nodded, "he was my mother's brother." She spoke in a soft tone. It was clear that she loved him and that his death, despite Gino's latest warnings, was completely unexpected and painful.

But Scully needed to know more. Who was her mother? How come she was so young if she was Gino's niece? Why didn't he want anyone to know that they were related? And what about Marco? Good God.

Nicola looked at her and shook his head lightly. "Could you give us a moment?" he asked Rosa, his speech still slow.

"You can be so unforgiving," she told Scully when Rosa left them alone.

"I didn't say anything," she reminded him. "Lift a little. I need to clean your neck and chest."

He lifted up so that he could seat upright.

"You didn't have to," he replied in a raspy voice. It had a strange effect on her despite all her efforts to detach.

Her cheeks reddened slightly. "You have to admit that this whole situation is rather unbelievable."

She passed his neck with the soapy washcloth, removing the blood stains and dirt. He breathed evenly, his pulse now within normal parameters.

"Only because you don't know the whole truth," he warned her.

"You mean there's more?" she asked incredulously.

"Much more," he rasped. "Or it wouldn't make any sense."

"Lean against the tiles," she instructed him and ran the washcloth across his chest. She tried to make it look medical, but she noticed his breath and eyelids getting heavier.

"Would you rather do it yourself?" she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed now.

"I can't," he complained weakly. He was completely at her mercy.

"I can call Mulder," she offered without much thought.

"Yeah, that'd be real fun," he joked and she blushed even more.

"Well, can you handle it?" she asked impatiently. "I have to go over your arms and legs."

"No tummy?" he joked again and closed his eyes playfully when he saw her eyebrow arch. He reopened them and fixated his stare on her. "Can you... handle it?"

That did it for her. No more games. She grabbed the washcloth that had sunken on the bottom of the tub, gathering the soft material in her hand, and touched the delicate skin below his chest.

He hissed, partly from pain, partly from the unexpected contact. She circled the offended ribs, applying only the slightest pressure, and then smoothed over the other side and down to his belly.

His eyes widened at the sensory onslaught, darkening more each new move she made. He leaned his head back against the tiles, unable to look at her face or hand. Her touch was firmer now, the washcloth gliding over his abs and to the ridge of his elastic band.

His boxers gave in slightly, allowing her hand to brush the sensitive skin. His eyes closed and a moan escaped his lips. She didn't want to arouse him, but he sure didn't have any right to put in question her resilience.

"Give me your hand," she ordered and saw how completely out of focus he was.

He lifted his right hand and when she finished cleaning it, he automatically offered her his left hand.

He observed her keenly as his excitement dissipated a little. Her cheeks and neck were rosy red, her lips parted just as much as her fastened pulse and breath required, and there was a certain hunger in her hands that matched the one in his eyes.

She didn't want to look at him, but moved down the tub to his legs. It was getting uncomfortable - the repressed eroticism and physicality.

Mulder knocked on the door, "Everything alright?"

It startled her. "Yes, almost finished with the bath. Could you order something hot to drink and get a few bandages?"

She couldn't believe how composed she sounded.

"Yeah, no problem," he replied and padded away.

She skimmed the washcloth over his left foot and up his calf, circling the knee and its underside. Then she took his other leg and repeated her gestures. But she hesitated when she should have moved to his thigh. She looked into his eyes and gasped inside.

His chest heaved in anticipation, his eyes were dark as the tunnels under Rome and the muscles of his right hand holding the edge of the tub rippled while trying to hold steadily his position.

He was shatteringly attracting.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "there's no other way." She ran the washcloth on the inside of his wounded thigh, making him moan and whimper at the same time. The cut spread across almost the whole circumference.

"It doesn't seem too deep," she observed, trying hard to calm her own erratic breaths and avoid looking at the bulge in his pants. His physical reaction to her tending was totally normal, although not so common with such injuries. It was probably due to his stamina and physical fitness.

But it was also hell for both of them.

"Shouldn't be," he replied, his voice affected so much more than hers. "I tried to break my restraints... only managed to cut myself."

She nodded. "How's your back?" she asked.

"It hurts," he replied, still heaving.

"Show it to me," she demanded and his lips quirked up.

"Bossy, aren't we?" he teased her.

"Wouldn't you like to see just how much?" she provoked him.

He chuckled and coughed.

"Easy," she calmed him and pulled him towards her so she could take a look at his back.

"And?" he inquired.

"Just a few bruises," she replied in her medical tone. "Pass me the washcloth."

He was glad he wasn't on display anymore and started to relax as the soft fabric smoothed his skin. "Feels nice," he commented.

"You said it aloud," she admonished him.

He lowered his head into his palms and sighed. "I'm sorry. There's only as much I can take."

"It's okay," she smiled at him. "I'm done."

He sighed again and grabbed her hand resting on his shoulder. He turned to her, "Thank you."

His honesty had to be one of his best weapons because it disarmed her every single time. She moved in front of him so that she could be face-level with him. She caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling.

"I thought you were dead when we find you," her voice was on the point of breaking. "I'm just thankful to have you back," she added softly, running her hand through his dark spiky hair.

He hummed.

"And you have some explaining to do now."

He opened his eyes, "About the Soldiers and Pilgrims?"

She pursed her lips, "That, and everything else. But first you need to rest."

That was ten hours ago. He fell asleep instantly after being rinsed, towelled like a small child, patched up and having drunk some hot tea. Marco and Rosa greeted him with arms wide open when he exited the bathroom with her help. He smiled meekly and thanked Mulder.

"You'd have done the same," he replied and patted Nicola's shoulder.

She helped him to the bed, tucked him in and wished he had all the answers to this bizarre series of events.

"Don't let anyone know you'd found me," he spoke silently to her when she covered him with the blankets Mulder found. "Not yet."

"I know. Sleep tight."

And so he did until now when she saw him opening his eyes.

"Dana?" he called softly in the room. "Marco?"

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"There is no fulfilment that is not made sweeter for the prolonging of desire."

– Jacqueline Carey

"For everything in the world – the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life – comes not from the Father but from the world."

– 1 John 2:16


	5. The Eve of Truth

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 5

The Eve of Truth

* * *

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

18:12 HOURS

He shifted up in bed to get a better look of the spacious bedroom. His ribs ached, his head throbbed and the wound on his thigh burned. He closed his eyes and opened them again to refocus his vision. It was then he saw her in the softly dimmed light. She was wearing her red robe, barefoot and softly treading towards him. His heart jumped and contracted. She looked ethereal.

"Hey," she greeted him with a warm smile and sat on the side of the bed next to him.

He let out a heavy breath he didn't even know he was withholding. The feelings she awoke in him... He shook his head.

"What is it?" she asked concerned, searching his hand.

But he just stared at her. He was no stranger to loving a woman and he had his share of more or less fulfilling relationship, but this was different.

"Nicola?" she asked again. "Are you okay?"

He knew all the words, all the poems and great stories that described the greatness of love. Heavenly, eternal, immortal. He read the texts, studied the meaning, indulged in the occasional fantasy. But this was different.

His eyes darted to her full lips, the line of her jaw, down her throat and to that special little place below - the pit of her neck. His lips parted slightly, but nothing came out. He saw then the tendons of her neck tense and stretch, felt her hand touch his cheek and forehead, saw her lips forming words he couldn't quite make out.

"Nicola, say something," she pleaded, and only when he looked at her scared eyes he managed to snap out of his trance-like state.

"You...," he whispered. It was all he could say.

"It's okay. You suffered severe injuries and endured a very stressful situation," she rushed to explain. "It's normal that you feel disoriented."

He smiled into her hand, still fondling his cheek.

"What?" she asked, half relieved to see him respond, but too confused to understand what was going on.

He shook his head. "I don't feel disoriented."

"What then?" she stared into his dreamy hazel eyes.

"You... it's you," he simply stated.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Her? What about her? She removed her hand and placed it in her lap. She tried to figure out what he was saying, but she really couldn't...

Oh, God. It was her. The way he looked at her when she sat near his side... She misinterpreted it out of fear that there was or could be something wrong with him. She felt the blood in her cheeks rise and a familiar warmth envelope her tired limbs. She refused to look at him.

But he saw her.

He saw the red in her cheeks, her hands resting defiantly in her lap, her conflict and resolution. He felt her inner battle to resist, to stay faithful not only to Mulder but to everything she believed in, her need to be understood and challenged.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them he found hers looking hesitantly at him. That truthful blue that tore his own beliefs into tiny little pieces waiting to be picked up and reassembled into something new.

His hand moved slowly to her right shoulder and his fingers brushed the smooth material of her robe. Soft and smooth, silk he guessed. He could feel the warmth of her body through the sewing threads. So gentle, so inviting. He looked at her again and saw streaks of the old tell-tale pain on her face, arising from a life of suffering and sacrifice. She owned that pain long ago, made it hers and Mulder's, transforming it into trust and hope. He hummed.

His fingers trailed up her neck, living the neurons they brushed on fire, caressing the edges of her ear and up her cheek. She closed her eyes without further thought. Her chest raised and fell with each breath, seeking and refusing his attention. He couldn't stop feeling in awe of her.

Oh, he read them all – the letters, poems and books - but found no solace or meaning. Until she came into his life.

"Behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves," he whispered, his voice soft and soul-touching.

She smiled weakly at first, wetting her lips subconsciously. She knew the words by heart. "Song of Solomon," her voice cracked, but her smile broadened.

He smiled back, gazing into her eyes. "I could go on."

Her hand found his on its own and brought it to her lips. She kissed the heel of his hand, the heat of her lips sending shivers up his scalp. "I know you could, but there's just as much a woman can take."

He chuckled heartily, remembering his own words when she tended his wounds. And then his face straightened. "I know you don't want this life, but I thank God every day that he dragged you all the way here."

"Oh, Nicola," she sighed and pulled him into an embrace that spoke volumes.

He felt shielded in her arms. All the evil out there - it was powerless.

She pressed him tightly to her, feeling every bone, every muscles, every heartbeat. "I was so afraid," she whimpered into his neck.

He smoothed her back reassuringly, "I'm here."

She breathed out heavily and closed her eyes.

"I know how scared you were," he whispered against her hair. "I could feel it. It made me cut my thigh, trying to escape."

She buried her head deeper into the crook of his neck. It was more than she could take. Tears spilled from her eyes and she sobbed into the thin white cotton of his t-shirt. Her hands slipped around his neck, his fingers tugging and wrinkling the soft fabric.

"Dana," he sighed, his eyes closing in desperation. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry. "Don't cry."

She sobbed even harder. Tears ran uncontrollably down her rosy cheeks. The shock, the fear, the adrenaline - they were finally dissolving. But something else was unfolding as well. The true nature of her feelings for him. And that frightened her to a point of immediate denial.

She was sitting half on the bed, half in his lap when she felt him shift. He lifted her up with him despite his injuries, supressing a groan that threatened to escape his throat. He dissolved her robe, hoping she was dressed beneath, but not really caring at this point.

She didn't try to stop him. Her mind was too tired, her limbs battered.

The robe pulled at her feat, revealing her elegant and delicate figure. He didn't know if he was that relieved or that disappointed that she wore a grey V-neck tee and blue cotton panties underneath. He rearranged the pillows against the headboard and pulled her in bed with him.

She gasped softly when the side of her thigh met his. He pulled the blankets over them and put a hand around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. They were lying in bed propped up against the pillows. She leaned her head against his left cheek.

"You didn't have any sleep, did you?" he asked her.

She looked at him with tearful eyes, "An hour or so."

"How did you find me?" Despite all his abilities he couldn't quite figure out how they managed to find him in that catacomb.

She exhaled, "I saw you in a dream."

"What?"

She nodded. "I dreamt of father Gino. He showed me where you were... in a manner of speaking."

He was speechless. Even for a man of God the belief in miracles did not come easy. "I see."

"It was a shock for me, too."

He caressed her shoulder lightly to soothe her, but found himself being shocked just as much.

She reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I don't know what's happening... how a dead person could tell me where to find you in a dream. But it did happen, and I'm just relieved that Mulder insisted on following that dream."

He smiled briefly. "Where is he?"

"He met with Marco. They are supposed to bring something to eat later."

"What? Nazionale kitchen isn't good enough for them?" he joked.

She smiled. "You know very well why."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded. It was to protect him; hide him from the authorities, his kidnappers and whomever was behind this mess.

"Marco and Rosa were very helpful," she looked down at their joined hands, "we may have never been able to find you so quickly without them."

Especially Marco, she thought. She still had trouble believing he had a son.

"Just ask me," he said, looking openly at her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. It bothered her a lot that he didn't tell her about Marco. "I think it's up to you to explain it."

He sighed. "I was 20, she was 19. We met during the summer of '89 and became very good friends. One night she came to me in tears. Her father had a car accident -,"

She cut him off, "Don't. You don't have to explain everything."

"I want to," he replied and looked at her. "I should've told you before."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, hiding the hurt in her voice.

He suspired heavily. "I was afraid of what you would have thought of me."

Oh, one of the oldest fears of modern man. She shook her head. "I've told you about William. You think I wasn't afraid that you would judge me?"

"That was different. You did what you did to protect him," he insisted.

She had to smile at his inability to see how she saw him. She could never judge him for anything.

"Where was I?" He scratched his stubble.

"The car accident...," she reminded him.

"Right," he murmured as if he was suddenly transported to that faithful night. "Her father was in a critical condition. She cried in my arms and I tried so hard to make her feel better. She looked at me with those sincere, innocent eyes... and it just happened."

He paused and she waited.

"I loved her and I think she loved me, but soon after that night her parents moved to another town. It had to do something with her father's recovery. We tried to stay in touch, but the distance was overwhelming."

"So she had no idea she was pregnant at that time?" she asked prudently.

He shook his head, "No, she didn't know."

She wanted to ask what happened next, but waited. It was clear that something went wrong.

His hand squeezed hers as if trying to draw encouragement to go on.

She looked at him and nodded. "It's okay. Go on."

"She died giving birth to Marco," his voice cracked. "She... she wanted to tell me about Marco once he was born, but she died. Her mother told me that she didn't want to pressure me into anything." He leaned his head against the pillow, tears welling under his closed eyes.

She felt for him. So much heartache. She leaned back and drew his face to her. He was shaken and battered from life just as much as she was. "It's alright. It's long gone now," she whispered and kissed his forehead, lingering there for a second more than necessary.

He sighed, locking eyes with her. "I found out only five years ago about Marco."

"Why? What happened after the birth?" she asked, seeing herself in his eyes.

He turned to lie on his side, never breaking eye contact. His hand went around her waist, his right leg finding room between hers. Her lips parted at the contact, but he was so calm, completely oblivious of his move. "She never told her parents who the father was. Only a close friend of her knew about me," he continued explaining while she tried real hard not to revel in the feeling of his thigh between hers. "They raised Marco on their own, but when he turned 18 he decided to look for his father."

"So...," she said, a little out of breath, "he just found you?"

"Well, he has his father's genes," he joked and she chuckled. And then his face grew serious. "He's a remarkable young man."

"Five years ago," she brushed her hair back, "you were already a priest."

"I remember the day we met as if it happened only an hour ago," he closed his eyes again. "It was a warm day in October. Call it a coincidence, but Father Vincenzo was visiting that day, too. He walked into the kitchen and told me that a young man was standing outside, asking for me."

She watched his face, a lock of his tousled hair falling on his forehead, eyes closed trying to remember every detail, the line of his nose and sculpted lips, the soft wrinkles around the corners of his mouth bearing witness to time passing.

"I thought it was someone that father Gino sent to me. He did that from time to time. He said I had a gift that should be used to help young people. So I went out and almost took a step back when I saw him."

She saw pain register on his face. "Why?" she asked without thinking better of it.

"It was like seeing her again," he lowered his voice. "He resembles her so much."

She closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed, too. So many hours spent thinking of what William looked like started to get to her. And for some reason she always pictured William like a little Fox Mulder.

"He said 'Hi, I'm Marco', and I knew... I just knew," he whispered.

She exhaled heavily into his chest, making him open his eyes.

"You're thinking about William," he said gently.

She nodded, tears forming in the corner of her eyes again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No, I want to here it all," she replied, wiping her eyes.

He touched her cheek, brushing away the tears that escaped her fingers. "I invited him in the house and he didn't lose any time explaining why he came."

"It must have been a shock," she said quietly.

He closed his eyes again and hummed. "A shock and a blessing," he said, opening his eyes. "I always wanted to have kids. And to learn that all that time I had one..."

Her lips extended into a meek smile. He liked kids. And she always liked men who liked kids.

"What was her name?" she interrupted the short silence.

He lifted his brow. "Stella Moretti," he replied, adjusting his head slightly. "Her father was Italian."

"Marco Moretti," she tried to pronounce it correctly.

"Yeah, fits incredibly well in Rome."

"Did he leave England to be with you?" she looked into his watery eyes. She could see them together. Father and son.

"Not exactly," he gazed back, "it was only after his grandparents died, three years ago. Gino helped him enrol in his Ph.D. studies of history and he decided to stay. We tried to make up for lost time, but it's not easy. Very few people know he's my son."

"So, he is a historian, too." A smile escaped her lips.

"And a philosophy grad to my great pleasure. He keeps annoying me about the meaning of life continuously," he groaned.

Her smile widened, "I can't see how that could be an annoyance to you, Professor O'Brien."

He smiled broadly, "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, never," she shook her head, still grinning. "But teaching theological anthropology at the Pontifical Gregorian University doesn't exactly give you any ground to complain about Marco's philosophical tendencies."

"Is that right?" he asked, his eyes flashing a fiery energy. His hand pressed her harder to him, and he finally realized his leg lay jammed between hers. His eyes darkened, searching hers for an answer.

Her heartbeat fastened. "Nicola," she warned him, though she didn't know anymore what the real danger was.

He swallowed, his jaw tightened. "I see you, Dana. I'm not scared of it."

Oh, God. Why did he have to say things like that? She tried to clear her head, remind herself of who she was. "I see you, too," she did all she could not to falter, "I feel the life in you, but I'm not the one you should live it out with."

His left eye flinched as it always did when a conflict he could not solve arose within him. He lowered his head against hers. How could anyone not live such life-consuming emotions out? "I'm not supposed to live it out with anyone," he whispered, "but I wish to God I could do it with you."

"No," she said firmly. Reason was kicking in, finally. "What would we have if we did that?"

His mouth opened. He watched her, confused for a moment. What would they have? "Nothing," he replied after moments of silence, resigned. And right now they still had everything.

He disentangled from the grip of her legs, a feeling of cold enveloping his heated skin. She let him go despite the emptiness that followed, despite the angry loneliness. Her eyes followed his retreating body. That was the end of games, she guessed.

"But I still got to do this," he said on a whim and took her face in his hands.

She looked at him with eyes wide and before she could do anything his lips pressed hard against hers, heat marrying heat. She froze for a moment, and when she got her bearings back he was already gone.

"Think of it as an innocent gesture of affection," he said teasingly, his eyes shining with the playfulness of a kid on his favourite playground. Only his rapidly rising and falling chest gave him away.

She couldn't believe him! What was he thinking?! "Nicola!" she raised her voice. "What...?"

"What?" he repeated. "I just told you what." A grin too big for her liking was plastered on his face.

"You're..." she couldn't find the words. The soft skin of her lips was still resonating from the unexpected contact.

"Yeah, I've been told that before," he said calmly, looking her in the eye.

"Oh, don't you dare do that now!" she said, outraged. He wasn't going to read her mind now. Not a chance.

"I don't need to, trust me," he countered. "You're displaying clear enough your thoughts.

She glared at him.

"And you look beautiful doing it," he teased on.

Oh, she head it right then.

She lifted up, grabbed the pillow under her and swung towards him.

"Dana!" he lifted his hands to catch the pillow and groaned in pain. "I'm a seriously injured man."

"Is that what you are?" she challenged him, trying to get hold of the pillow, but he was too strong. He found her arms and grasped them firmly.

She wondered many times about that intensity... what it could do, where it could take them. She shivered. It had to be lack of sleep, surely.

There was a seriousness in his gestures she couldn't ignore. He pulled her left hand and turned her so that she landed with her back against his chest and his legs V-ed around her.

She gasped at the feel of his hard muscles.

"Don't you dare wonder about that," he whispered in her ear, making her hair stand up. "It's the way of no return – just like you said."

"I can't control it, Nicola," she whispered back. There was no meaning in hiding it from him. "There's a reason I don't talk about it."

He eased his grip around her waist, his fingers splayed on her belly. "I know, I know," he whispered, nuzzling his nose in her almond-scented hair. "But the fact that you do wonder makes my mind go into those deep dark woods that bring no peace."

"Hush, Nicola," she pleaded him. It would be so easy to take his hand and wander into that twilight land with him.

He leaned his forehead against her shoulder. "I could exploit my gift."

"What... do you mean?" she asked, almost afraid.

"I know what you need, how you need it and when you need it," he whispered into her neck. "The intensity you've been wondering about... it comes from that knowledge."

The muscles in her belly clenched. "Stop it," she sounded out of breath.

He sighed heavily. "I'm not going there, Dana. I love you too much to do something so manipulative."

Her heart did an involuntary flip flop. Again, with these words... She covered the hand on her belly with her own and leaned farther into him, her head resting against his collarbone. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, even jaded, and the warmth of his body and the feeling of being truly loved lulled her into a sense of complete security.

She wanted to tell him she loved him. He deserved to know that much, although she was sure he already knew. She really wanted to tell him, but sleep overtook her senses mercilessly. Her forehead fell against the side of his neck and her muscles relaxed under the weight of all the hours unslept.

He leaned back into the pillow and held her sleeping in his arms. A dark path appeared in front of his eyes, the stars above the only light. He blinked and it was gone. He hugged her tightly to him, his arms circling around her chest. He heard her hum lightly and his eyes squeezed shut. Nothing, nothing had prepared him for what was happening.

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

20:21 HOURS

She was writhing under him with anticipation. Her thoughts, her firmest of beliefs were collapsing like a magnificent palace into debris. He was hovering above her, his arms and legs around her body. She couldn't see him, lying on her stomach, face pressed into the pillow.

He leaned into her. His torso brushed the sensitive skin of her bare shoulders and back.

She had trouble breathing, focusing, thinking. His hand removed gently the hair standing in his way, exposing the delicate flesh of her neck.

He neared his lips to her left ear, his warm breath caressing the nerve endings and sending shivers in all directions.

Her mouth opened, breathing in the pillow. He was killing her.

His lips touched the warm skin behind her ear and brushed down to her spine.

Her nerves sang with the exquisite sensations that were spreading to her brain and limbs. Her hands clenched the sheet under the pillow furiously.

He placed warm, melting kisses down the path of her spine. She breathed heavily, the pillow acting as a buffer. The fire in her chest started to spread lower.

He reached the end of her spine. Her body curved from pleasure. She waited, feeling the presence of his body everywhere. Her skin communicating with the lightest touch, faintest whisper, with every dip his body caused on the mattress. He had to be in her head.

He blew on the sensitive spot on the small of her back, sending nerves into electric delirium, causing her to writhe, almost in pain. His lips curved into a smile, she could tell it intuitively.

She was melting, her insides, her thoughts, everything was a blur of heat and flushed skin. Unspeakable pleasure bordering on sweet pain.

"Please," she begged, her voice a few octaves lower than usual.

His lips slowly neared the sacrum. Her body shifted in anticipation, trying to make contact, but he stopped her movement. This was agony.

He grabbed her left arm and turned her around. There was that fearless intensity in his moves. She faced him.

"Wake up," she heard him say, his voice coaxing her softly out of... sleep?

Her eyes opened slowly. Where was she?

"Hey," he greeted her, his lips moving against the side of her neck.

She felt groggy. Her flesh ached in million places. God, it was getting hard to handle.

His hands ran along her arms and only then she realized she fell asleep in his arms, her back pressed against him.

And she dreamed of him. Oh, God.

She ran her hand over her forehead, trying to awake the reasonable side of her.

"I fell asleep," her voice was low, thick.

He kneaded her shoulders lightly, helping the blood flow. "You passed out."

She straightened up and he let go of her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

That deep dark pleasure in her bones was all that was wrong.

"Nothing," she tried to sound casual, but failed.

"If you say so," he said, unconvinced.

She turned then. Her stare was unforgiving.

"What?" he asked, taken aback.

Her brows furrowed. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?" his forehead creased. "Dana?"

She could tell he wasn't lying. Well, he never lied so blatantly, anyway. Apparently, his gift didn't include dream-reading, if such a thing even existed.

Her eyes lit up. "Never mind." She could see how frustrated he suddenly felt.

"No, wait, tell me," he pleaded her, grasping her shoulder.

"Not a chance," she replied and jumped out of the bed.

"Where are you going?!" he protested, unable to move so quickly.

"To the bathroom. Mulder and Marco should be here soon." She looked so composed as she walked to the bathroom. "Oh, and Nicola," she turned to face him, "whining doesn't become you."

He had to close his mouth when she turned away. His shoulders slouched and he shook his head.

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, MAY 31, 2015

20:27 HOURS

She leaned against the washbowl with both her hands. Her eyes were still looking dazed from the dream and her head ached from all the conflicting emotions.

"Dammit," she cursed under her breath and opened the faucet. The dream kept playing in her head. She let the cold water gather in her hands and splashed it over her face. Once, twice. The way his body hovered over hers... Stop it! She towelled her face and avoided the mirror.

She heard a phone ringing, his slow footsteps and a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" she hardly recognized her own voice.

"It's your mother," he replied.

Mom? She opened the door and took the phone.

"Mom?" she asked, afraid something might be wrong. They talked once a month and were in agreement that she should call her only if something was wrong.

"Hi, Dana," Margaret Scully greeted her daughter warmly.

"What is it?" Scully asked concerned, her voice strained.

"You tell me," her mother said calmly.

Scully swallowed hard and sat on the bathroom floor. "What do you mean?"

"Don't pretend. A mother knows when there is something wrong with her children... even if they are miles apart," Margaret's voice was firmer now.

"Oh, mom," she burst into tears and spilled her soul out. She told her everything.

"Oh, Dana," Margaret sighed. "It was bound to happen."

Scully sobbed silently, "Why do you say that?"

"You're both stressed and tired, your endeavours go by mostly unseen," she paused, "you're both far from home and lonely."

"Mulder seems to be just fine with this arrangement," he wiped her eyes.

"But you clearly aren't," Margaret interjected, "and father Nicola, well, he's just a man."

"I'm so tired, mom," her voice was weak.

"I know, sweetheart," Margaret tried to calm her. "I think you should talk to Mulder."

Scully closed her eyes. How could she talk to Mulder about Nicola? "I can't, mom."

"I don't mean about father Nicola. Talk to him how you feel about him. Do you love him?"

"Yes," she nodded as if she could see her.

"Do you want to be with him?" her mother continued.

She hugged her knees, feeling like a frightened young girl. "I do, but not like this."

Maggie paused for a second. "Dana, the way I see it, nothing is lost yet. But it is a test of faith."

Scully sighed heavily. Emotional displays always took a toll on her.

"Don't worry, it's not the end of the world," Margaret soothed her. "It happened to me, too."

"What?" Scully's eyes widened in astonishment.

"I never told anyone," Margaret admitted. "Nothing really happened, except for glances, innocent touches and the occasional hug, but it worked havoc on me."

"When?" Scully asked incredulous.

"You know how we moved a lot. I didn't have a lot of friends. We were in Japan at that time," Margaret sighed.

"Go on," Scully said eagerly.

"I wasn't too thrilled of going to Japan, but it wasn't something your father would decline. He worked a lot and I spent hours alone with the three of you," she paused again. "There was a void in my life I couldn't quite fill alone."

Scully was flabbergasted. Her mother? "Who was he?"

"A Lieutenant Commander of the U.S. Navy," Margaret replied, her voice softening.

"How... I mean, where did you meet him? And when? We were always around," Scully asked.

"Not always," he mother reminded her. "I didn't meet with him in secret. I wouldn't do that to your father. In fact, Matthew was a very good friend of your father."

"Matthew?!" Scully exclaimed. "You were in love with Matthew?"

Scully remembered the handsome Lieutenant Commander Matthew Crawford. He was already stationed in Japan when they arrived there. Tall, good-humoured, quirky. They all adored him.

"We had feelings for each other," she replied, not wanting to make it too big of a deal.

"Dad never knew?"

"There was nothing to know, but I did tell him that Japan was going to damage our relationship."

"What did he say?" Scully asked.

"He understood. The next day he asked to be transferred back to U.S. as soon as possible."

"What happened to Matthew?" she couldn't help but ask.

"He stayed," Margaret's voice faltered.

"What is it mom?"

"Just memories, Dana," he reassured her. "I loved your father, but at that time I felt all the things you are feeling right now."

"But what kind of person am I if I let myself feel these things?" Scully pressed.

Margaret chuckled, "Human."

Scully sighed softly. Always trying to be beyond reproach, Mulder told her once, it's not human.

"Thank you for telling me, mom," she said then.

"You'll get through this," Margaret reassured her and said her goodbyes.

Scully stood up and walked out of the bathroom. Nicola was resting in bed and going through the reports. She walked to the table.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her.

"You know the answer to that question," she replied, her voice tense. She didn't want to look at him.

"I mean with your mother," he said calmly.

She bit her lip. "She's fine." And then she turned to him. "I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little out of myself with all that's happening."

"It's perfectly normal."

"But you're calm?" she noted.

His eyes clouded with emotions. What did she want him to say? That he was torn, frustrated, hopeless? "Yes."

Her lips curled in disappointment and she made a barely visible nod with her chin. Maybe he wasn't affected that much after all.

He looked down at the report and his brows furrowed. "What?"

Her face shook slightly at his reaction. "What is it?"

He looked at her in disbelief. "Where did Mulder get these reports?"

"From the local police. Why?" her forehead creased.

"Either they are so badly manufactured to cover up Gino's murder or Gino is still alive," he explained, his voice hopeful again.

She walked to him, "How can you tell?"

"Gino's blood is not A positive. He is 0 negative," he pointed it out on the sheet.

She couldn't believe it. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent positive," he replied, looking at the sheet for other discrepancies.

"But Mulder saw the body. He knew father Gino," she tried to make sense of it.

"Did he tell you he saw the body?"

She thought of it. "I just assumed he did."

"Yeah, I thought so," he said and looked at her.

"Did father Gino fake his own death?"

"I don't know," Nicola replied and looked at the sheet again.

"Nicola," she warned him, "I don't need mind-reading powers to know that you're not telling me everything."

He closed his eyes and smiled. There were times when he still forgot how piercingly intelligent she was. He looked at her and sighed. "Do you really want to know what I know?"

What the hell was he saying? "Don't you think it would be a good idea to tell me? Or that I deserve to know at this point?"

He nodded, "Yes, you deserve to know, but that's beside the point. Do you want to know something potentially disrupting and dangerous? Something you can't just walk away from?"

She stared at him. Was he kidding her? She smirked at him. "What do you think I've been doing this whole time... before we met?"

He nodded again. "I know, but I thought you wouldn't want to get involved into something so shady here."

"It's too late," she countered.

"Than we should wait for Mulder and Marco. They need to know, too," he said and placed the folder on the bed.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."

— Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

— Lao Tzu

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood."

― George Orwell, 1984


	6. Truths and Omens

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 6

Truths and Omens

* * *

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SATURDAY, MAY 31 2015

21:17

"Good evening," Marco greeted her when she opened the door for him.

She noticed for the first time his stunning looks. "Hey," she greeted back, unable to get her eyes off of him. Dark hair and intense grey eyes, lanky form and that _je ne sais quoi_ that made him so appealing. She searched for Nicola in his features, but could barely make out any resemblance.

He lifted his bag of groceries on the table and looked at Nicola.

"Oh, hey," Nicola greeted him, looking up from the report. "Everything alright?"

"I could ask you the same question," he replied warmly.

Nicola chuckled. "I guess you could. Come here." He leaned against the headboard and extended his arms.

Marco walked to him, leaned down and gave him a hug.

"You met Dana," Nicola said and looked at Scully.

Marco nodded at her, fixing her directly in the eye.

"Where's Mulder?" she asked, feeling his scrutiny.

But before Marco could reply her phone rang. "It's him. Excuse me," she said and walked outside the room.

Marco sat down near Nicola's legs. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispered to Nicola, his eyes turning cold.

Nicola stared back at him. Despite knowing that Marco would notice right away their connection - for lack of a better word - once he saw them together, he wasn't expecting him to be so blunt about it. "What do you mean?" Nicola asked weakly, feeling like crawling out of his skin.

"Really? That's the best you can do?" Marco challenged him.

"Don't you have anything else to do? Exams? Girls? Anything?" he whispered back, irritated.

"Rosa will be here in twenty minutes," he replied without sentiment. But Nicola could tell he cared deeply for her. Like father, like son. Nothing was taken lightly or for granted, but emotions were guarded always.

"I watched her when we were searching for you," he continued. "She loves him."

"I know that," he whispered back, unable to find strength in his body.

"What the hell are you doing then?" Marco hissed.

Nicola's jaw tightened. "I didn't want this to happen."

Marco shook his head, "You'll ruin everything."

Nicola felt tired, "I'm not ruining anything, Marco. She's ruining me."

"Is she?" Marco challenged him further.

"Yes! My God, yes!" he hissed.

Marco stared at him. "Did you...?" his voice trailed off, unsure he had any right to ask him.

"Nothing happened, Marco," he replied.

"Well, something did or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Marco remarked.

Nicola ran his hand through his hair, feeling rather upset. Marco was right. The looks, the smiles, the playful banter and soft innuendos, touching of hands, lying together in bed, the hugs... Something did happen. "Nothing that would betray Mulder's trust."

"And what exactly would betray it?" Marco inquired.

Nicola lowered his head. What, indeed, would betray it? Kissing, having sex, hugging? The confidential and emotional talks? The stolen glances? The fact that he entrusted her to him and he fell in love with her?

"You know you can't have her," Marco reminded him.

Nicola looked at him, his eyes clouding. "Thanks for stating the obvious."

Marco's lips thinned. "How bad is it?"

"Can't you tell?"

"I was hoping I was wrong," he replied.

"It's all-consuming, if you must know."

Marco pursed his lips. "Shall I convene the Pope?"

Nicola chuckled lightly. "I don't think he can do much about it."

"I get it, you know," Marco said after a moment of silence. "She's quite something... extremely intelligent, passionate, down to earth."

"You're quite an observer," Nicola noted.

"Maybe, but this is not coming from me."

"What do you mean?" Nicola asked, confused.

"I saw it in Mulder... the way he feels about her," he replied.

Nicola sighed heavily. He knew what it meant that he 'saw it'. Jesus, this was getting too complicated.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Scully apologized when she walked to them.

Marco looked at her. "So... you've been keeping father Nicola busy from what I hear," he remarked, his lips curling.

Scully blushed slightly. She didn't expect a comment like that. Did he know...? No, Nicola would never talk. Would he? She looked at Nicola, not really knowing what to say.

"She knows about us, Marco," Nicola turned to his son, gently reminding him there was no need to pretend about their true relationship.

"Yeah, I know you told her," he replied casually, but his eyes lacked the warmth they were displaying just moments before.

Her eyes widened, "How... excuse me... how do you know?"

"You've been studying me when I walked in, wondering about my appearance," he replied, making her feel silly.

She looked down and back at Nicola, "You could have told me he shares your gift."

Nicola shook his head, "He doesn't want anyone to know."

"It's true," Marco confirmed. "I don't want people to know."

"So why did you let me know?" she asked.

"You're different, Mulder's different," he explained. "You both know about things. It's probably why my dad told you as well."

Nicola looked at him, assessing his words.

"What makes you think I didn't find out on my own?" Scully challenged him.

"Do you really want to go there?" Marco asked, amused.

Scully's mouth opened and closed. She smiled then. He knew everything. There was no point in pretending otherwise. "No, there's no need," she replied.

"You're either this trusting or this indifferent," Mulder said in a grave tone when he appeared behind them.

Scully turned abruptly to him, swallowing at his words. All three of them stared at him, their souls heavy with apprehension that he was the only one in the room completely oblivious of what was going on.

Mulder cocked his head. "You left the door unlocked."

Scully forced a smile and Marco scratched his head. "I think that's my fault."

Rosa walked in the room and greeted all of them shyly. She stood beside Mulder.

"Since we are all gathered, we can get to the specifics," Mulder stated.

"What specifics?" Marco asked.

Mulder turned to him and smiled. "I thought you knew all the answers."

Marco blushed. "Not all of them."

Rosa chuckled lightly, earning an amused look from all of them.

"Tell them what you told me over the phone," Scully encouraged Mulder.

He sighed, feeling reluctant, but they had to know. "Poggia approached me when I was walking here. He says he's your friend." Mulder turned to Nicola.

"Diego Poggia? The commissioner?" Nicola asked.

Mulder nodded.

Nicola's fists clenched. He hated to be right about his assumptions. "We've known each other for almost ten years. He's a trusted friend."

Scully looked questioningly at Mulder.

"What else did he say?" Nicola asked.

"He said we are in danger," Mulder replied.

Rosa fidgeted and walked to Marco. He held her close to him.

"We've upset some very dangerous and important people when we rescued you from your kidnappers. They are prepared to do anything to hide the truth that you've uncovered. A truth that you've known about for quite some time if we are to believe Poggia," Mulder continued, his eyes searching Nicola's.

Nicola looked down into his lap. He reached the point where hiding what he knew was not an option anymore. "Yes, I have."

"Care to shad some light on it?" Marco asked, his voice edgy.

Nicola looked at Marco and then at Scully. He felt sick for having them dragged into this mess.

He exhaled and looked at Mulder. "Nine years ago Poggia found me through Gino. He asked me to help him with an investigation into a corrupt priest with ties to the Vatican. He was suspected of several financial frauds. I gathered all the information I could and made contact with him. Reinhard Miller. He was German, very uptight and distrusting. I had to lean on every tactic I knew to get close to him. But getting close to him, I got close to something else as well.

"What did you find?" Scully asked, folding her hands.

He looked at her. His eyes showed how conflicted he was about this whole thing. "Something far more disturbing."

"Just tell us," Marco was losing his patience.

Nicola's jaw tightened, "Evidence of a conspiracy at the highest levels of power." His voice mirrored the seriousness of the allegations.

Marco's eyes widened in fear. He was young but knew very well what it meant.

"A conspiracy about what?" Scully asked in a tight voice, feeling fed up with conspiracies.

"Money laundering, financial frauds, drugs, human trafficking, and various unexplained manipulations," Nicola looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes. She swallowed, looking away. The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Mulder. "The extent of it speaks for itself quite loudly," Nicola added.

"The extent of it?" Scully raised her brow. "I'm assuming it extends to Vatican borders?"

"You'd be wrong," Nicola answered her. "It's an international endeavour, tangled in a web of lies, deceit and self-interest."

"Why didn't you go to the media with it if you had evidence?" Rosa intervened.

"The evidence was barely circumstantial. We had proof of only minor crimes," Nicola explained.

"This is ridiculous," Marco interjected. "Who are these people? And why didn't they know about you back then?"

"Oh, Marco, they did know. They just didn't feel as threatened as they do know. The world is changing," Nicola kept his tone calm.

"Who exactly are we talking about?" Scully asked.

"You know who, Scully," Mulder said before Nicola could reply. "The same people we've been chasing all along."

She looked at him with concern. "I meant who specifically did you come across in your investigations."

"A cardinal that is now dead, a retired chief commissioner of the Italian police and the former maire of Rome," he replied, eyeing her carefully. She was a challenge emotionally and intellectually.

"What makes you think it spreads wider than that?" she inquired.

Mulder smiled to himself. He had been grilled like that many times.

"There were documents about money transactions, receipts signed by CEOs of multinationals like Monforte, SAS, NetWide and others, different bank account numbers from banks in the Caymans and Lichtenstein, investment contracts for obscure projects carrying names as Genesis III, Michelangelo, Shipment... Gino has these documents."

"You mean _had_ ," Rosa corrected him.

He looked at her for a brief moment and turned to Scully. "You have to understand that these are men and women with unprecedented power in industry, politics, finance and probably judiciary. You know about some of them, but they mostly live in the shadow of their superiors and leaders, keeping a low profile amid higher echelons of power that allows them to do their work and go undiscovered."

She looked at Mulder. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

"So, it goes deep and wide," Marco observed.

"Yes," Nicola nodded. "Rome, Paris, London, Berlin, Brussels, Rotterdam, Washington, New York, Atlanta, Tel Aviv, Beirut, Tokyo, Beijing and other places."

"Some of those cities are part of the Strong cities network," Rosa pointed out. "This is bad."

They exchanged looks. Strong cities were a global network of local authorities whose goal was to build resilience to prevent violent extremism. If they were home to these power brokers, then there was no hope of making it better any time soon.

"Makes sense in a way," Mulder said.

Rosa looked at him questioningly.

"Think of it," Mulder continued, looking at all of them, "those in power created this network of cities."

"To protect the way we live," Scully said.

"To protect the way _they_ live," he suggested. "To ensure no one takes their power."

Scully stared at him. Politics had a way of screwing people over and again, but to think they would go to such lengths just to fortify their positions...

"What exactly did you mean by various unexplained manipulations?" Mulder asked Nicola after moments of silence.

Scully flashed him one of her looks, but he just shrugged.

"Poggia warned me of ceremonies that were taking place within the Vatican walls. He didn't want to speculate who attended them or what went on, but he was crept out for some reason," Nicola explained.

"Come on, isn't it obvious that the clergy was involved at least to some extent? The dad cardinal?" Marco pointed out.

"Probably, but not necessarily," Nicola replied. "I saw only legitimate gatherings, groups of priests praying together, students meeting after lunch for contemplations, Bible readings... the usual activities religious people take part in."

Mulder looked at Marco. He was holding Rosa tightly, just as he was holding Scully when they fled from death in Germany. But that was another story.

"If ceremonies did take place," Nicola continued, "they had to be labelled as something else or organized in secret, maybe a passcode was requested or a sign given that granted you access. I never found out. And it might not be the clergy as you understand it, but rather individuals that have been around since ever with the sole intent to bring the Church down."

Marco's lips thinned into a line. He wasn't exactly a conspiracy junkie and the Roman Catholic church wasn't exactly a martyr if one looked at its history.

"But what does this have to do with unexplained manipulations?" Mulder insisted. "Ceremonies are as old as mankind."

"They used drugs on this ceremonies, made people do things they otherwise wouldn't. There was an increase in robberies, attempted murders and rapes committed by young people and the elderly. They all tested positive for drugs, but weren't using otherwise. Poggia was sure it was connected. It made him swore that he would bring these manipulative bastards down, but he couldn't and neither could I," he paused, "we had no idea how far it went."

"Didn't they have any recollection of these gatherings?" Scully asked.

"No, they all suffered from short-term memory loss," Nicola replied, shifting in bed to ease the pain in his ribs. He looked at them and hesitated for a moment.

Her eyes questioned him and he lowered his head. "There was something extremely strange the victims told us," he said while looking at his intertwined fingers. he swore back then to Poggia he wouldn't tell a soul about it.

"What?" Mulder's tone was impatient.

"There were stories of a black liquid being poured into tied naked bodies. Some even claimed that the men and women who led these ceremonies weren't human. We didn't know what to make of this, so we just attributed it to drug abuse," he looked up finally and saw Mulder's and Scully's bewildered expression. Rosa was squeezing Marco's hand.

"What is it?" Nicola asked.

"It's not drug abuse," Scully replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "It's an alien virus."

Nicola stared at her. What?

"Black oil," Mulder added. "It's been around since the dawn of mankind."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Marco exclaimed.

"Watch your language," Nicola warned him, his eyes turning austere. Marco knew better than to defy him on this.

Mulder looked at both of them with a confused look on his face and then at Scully. She avoided him. It was clear something was going on and he didn't know about it.

"What do you mean by alien?" Rosa asked, afraid of the answer.

"It didn't originate on Earth," Scully replied. Rosa's disbelief wasn't lost on her. "The human body serves as its host. It's a black substance that has sentience. It can think."

"This is insane," Marco murmured.

"Yeah," Scully exhaled, "it is, but it's also the truth."

Mulder looked at her, knowing full well that the scientist in her had a big problem recognizing that.

Marco shook his head, "A conspiracy of men and aliens?"

Mulder looked at him sympathetically and then turned to Scully. "I think you've found your work soul mate."

Scully's lips quirked up as she observed Marco's incredulous expression dissolve into a helpless smile. "You'll do just fine, Marco. I was like you once, and have still trouble accepting some of it now."

"And you believe all of it?" Marco asked Nicola.

"I don't know what to believe, but there are forces at work I have yet to understand," Nicola replied sincerely and then smiled. "You should keep an open mind. The ontological shock won't affect you that much if it turns out to be the truth."

Marco glared at him rather grimly, knowing he was making fun of his philosophical discussions about life, love and fear. "Thanks for that, dad."

Mulder snapped out of his trail of thought, suddenly. "Dad?!"

Scully looked at him, apology written all over her face. "I found out today, too."

"What? Wait, how?" Mulder asked, dumbfounded.

"A long time ago," Nicola replied shortly, "and as for how... well, I'm sure you know _how_."

He looked at Scully for a better explanation. He tried to do the math in his head, knowing Nicola's and Marco's age, but the revelation was too much to process at such a delicate time.

"You didn't say anything," Mulder turned to Marco.

"No, and I thought my father would be quiet about it as well, but it turned out he wasn't," Marco replied.

"When exactly did you find out?" Mulder asked Scully.

She folded her arms, "Earlier, in the bathroom." She tried real hard not to fidget at the memory.

Mulder's lips pursed. It never bothered him that she talked with Nicola about personal things, but this felt like more than talking. And the way she was avoiding his eyes. "Is there anything else I should know... about anything?" he asked, hoping to God the answer was no.

Nicola looked at him with clear eyes. "Yes."

Scully raised her head and stared at him, pleading him with her eyes not to say anything more. Marco waited, his breath gone. Was he really going to tell him?

Mulder looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Gino's still alive."

Scully looked at him aghast, searching Mulder's eyes for an answer but seeing only his utter confusion and disbelief.

Rosa stared at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

"We don't have time to get into details, but I have reason to believe he's still alive."

Rosa's eyes brimmed with tears, making Marco hug her and whisper, "It's okay."

She nodded and wiped her cheeks.

"I saw him dead," Marco said with a hint of anger in his young voice.

"You saw what he wanted you to see," Nicola replied too calmly.

"What?" Marco hissed.

Nicola shook his head, "There's not time for this now, Marco."

Mulder exhaled heavily. The whole situation was starting to get at him, too. "Your father is right. We should get going. Do what you have to prepare for the road. Take with you warm clothes, too. We meet 7 a.m. sharp."

"Where are we going?" Scully asked exasperatedly. She hated when he decided everything on his own.

"North," he replied, accompanying Marco and Rosa at the door.

"It's safer that you don't know the exact location for now," he told Marco and Rosa when they arrived at the door. They nodded and said goodbye.

When he closed the door behind them, he felt the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders for the first time. Scully's voice echoed softly in the spacious room, reminding him of all that has happened to them on this perilous journey. He thought Berlin was one of the toughest challenges they faced, both physically and emotionally, but he was wrong.

He leaned his forehead against the cool wooden door and closed his eyes.

They were in East Berlin when a young biochemist Tariq Najjar made contact with them, claiming the Syrian and German government were developing a biological weapon, using alien DNA. Scully was more than skeptical, but he let the young man talk. It was only after three weeks that he realized they were being played. Something Scully warned him about from the very beginning.

"I'm telling you this stinks, Mulder," she argued with him after their first meeting with Tariq, but he was too fired up about Tariq's story.

It turned out the young man was an operative of the German foreign intelligence service BND, trying to collect information about their findings in Syria and their intentions in Germany. He wanted them to go back to Syria to gather more information on the government's biological weapon program, and when they declined it all went south.

"I suggest you do it or I'll detain you for espionage against Germany," he threatened them.

A week later they were crossing the border into Switzerland illegally and on foot, leaving Germany behind and barely escaping agent Tobias Meyer's team, alias Tariq Najjar, in Berlin. It was a cold silent day in the mountains when they stepped on Swiss soil, but he could still hear the engines rev, tires screech, cars honk, voices shout. The suicidal drive toward the Brandenburg gate and out of it was a blur. And he had to thank Scully for getting out of Germany. Her resourcefulness, perseverance and intelligence. Agent Meyer was good at his job, but he didn't count on Scully's distrust from the start. She arranged for a car swap outside Berlin, and a trunk full of canned food and new clothes without his knowledge, long before agent Meyer approached them with his request. He held her hand tightly in his lap during their much less ruffle drive to the Swiss border.

They left the car in the woods near the border, taking with them just the necessary things. She told him she shipped their clothes and other belongings to an address in Switzerland just a week before. He stared at her. She had told him it was a random robbery when he entered their apartment, finding everything upside down and half of their things missing. He didn't question it.

"God bless the Schengen regime," she exclaimed as she gasped for breath on the clearing.

"And our new fake British passports," he added.

"What?!" she looked at him in disbelief.

"I got them right before we left Berlin," he explained. "Just in case we needed them. I guess that's my little secret, and may I add that it fades compared to yours."

A smile escaped her lips. It did fade, but fake passports? "I don't have to tell you that is illegal."

He pressed his lips together, "You're right, you don't."

"Who are we?" she asked after moments of uncomfortable silence.

"You know who we are, Scully," he looked at her.

"The names in the passport, Mulder," she reminded him.

He closed his eyes, nodding. He misunderstood her question. "Claire and Michael Johnson."

"Michael... I could finally call you by your first name," she looked in front of her, lips curling.

"Wouldn't you like that?" he added, teasing her a little.

"We'll have to be careful now," Scully mused. "What happened in Berlin changes everything. Our credit cards, phones... they can all be linked to us."

"I don't think we're top priorities for the European governments at the moment, Scully," he said. "And agent Meyer is smart enough to know we're not worth the effort. We were just recruits to him."

"It didn't seem like his team lacked effort when they were chasing us on Berlin streets."

"I know. If we had failed to escape Berlin, we would probably be held for questioning right now by the BND, MAD, Crypto or God knows what other German agency."

"Thank God we did," she whispered. She couldn't imagine going back to Syria now with the civil war raging and tearing the country apart. Neither did Mulder.

They were walking a steep forest path when they arrived at a crossroad and a beautiful orange-brown fox walked up to them. They stopped and stared at it. Life in D.C. didn't exactly prepared them for a life in wilderness.

"It has to be an omen," she whispered, earning an amused look from him.

"It's magnificent," he whispered back.

"Cunning, too," she added.

"The Indian shamans believe it can also turn into a teacher, providing guidance on finding your way around obstacles," he countered.

"So, what exactly do we do with our guide?" she asked, trying not to mock him.

It was then that the fox turned and walked in the opposite direction it arrived.

Scully looked at Mulder.

"We follow it," he replied without any doubt in his voice, and stepped down the steep path.

It was in the small village they arrived to that evening that he learned about father Nicola O'Brien. Scully left him in the dinette of the local _gasthaus_ where they rented a room for the night. An American couple, just arriving from Italy, approached him.

"I'm sorry, we couldn't but overhear that you're Americans, too," the middle-aged fairly-looking woman told him.

He smiled, "You got that right."

"This is so nice, meeting fellow Americans on the road, isn't it, George?" she asked the man sitting next to her. He only nodded, too busy to reply with a rib in his mouth.

"Where are you from?" the woman asked.

"Massachusetts, originally, but we live in the UK," he lied.

"The UK? George, wasn't that priest we met in Tuscany from the UK, too?" she looked at her husband who was now wiping his mouth.

"Sure was, honey. Father Nicola O'Brien," the husband replied.

And that's how it started. They couldn't shut up about him. So intelligent, so intriguing, so educated and open-minded. He almost started to yawn when George told him father Nicola was former MI5 with strong ties to the Vatican.

"It's all hush, hush," George explained and hinted at his wife. "Laura overheard two locals talking about him. She knows some Italian."

"I bet he knows a lot of secrets," Laura commented.

"I see," Mulder said. "We might pay him a visit. Sounds like he wouldn't mind. Where exactly did you say he lives?"

"It's a small town in Tuscany. Montepulciano, right, George?"

"That's right, honey," George confirmed.

He told Scully he might have found a way into the Vatican that night and a week later he found him. Father O'Brien. So intriguing then, and so troubling now.

"Are you alright?"

He turned, hearing Scully's voice behind him.

She looked at him with concerned eyes.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm alright," he replied.

Had he chosen the other path in the forest that day, he would not have to flee again and patch up his relationship with Scully in a hurry because some prominent bastards found out they knew about their sick minds and depraved actions.

"What are you doing?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"Thinking about omens," he replied, looking at her. Her blue eyes were razor blades, slicing his impulsive nature. He looked away and sighed. How was he going it to mend it this time? He walked away from her and into the spacious room where Nicola was still lying on the bed.

She heard him say something to Nicola and walk in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. This was going to be hell before they make it right. _If_ they make it right. She wanted to talk to him that evening, but it all changed after she received his call earlier. A change of plans, he said, before she could tell him they needed to talk.

"It's a mess, isn't it?" Nicola asked her when she sat at the table.

She looked at him with perplexed eyes and nodded. "What did he tell you?" she asked.

"To sleep tight," he lied, his face unreadable.

"Nicola," she pleaded, "you don't need to protect me."

Nicola's jaw tightened. "He told me where we are going and asked if I was afraid of foxes."

"Foxes?" she repeated.

Nicola nodded, his lips turning up at the corners.

"You think it's funny?!" she asked.

"No, it's not funny, I'm afraid of wild animals," he replied, his expression too relaxed for her liking.

"You're not making any sense," she complained weakly.

"Oh, but on the contrary," Mulder said as he exited the bathroom.

She turned abruptly to him. "What are you saying?" she asked.

"Don't you remember the orange fox?" he asked.

Orange fox? Oh, right, the magnificent orange fox. And then it dawned on her, "We are going to Switzerland?"

Both men nodded.

"Why? What's there?" she asked.

"A small village where we wait out the storm," Nicola said.

"You knew about this?" she turned to Mulder.

"Poggia suggested the place. One of his cousins has a cottage in the mountains. I didn't want Marco and Rosa to know," he explained.

She pursed her lips. He could have told her over the phone, but then again they were probably listening to all their communications.

"Won't they find us? They probably know about Poggia's secret hideouts."

"I don't think so," Nicola replied. "I know Poggia's cousin. She has lived on Iceland for the last 12 years alone. She uses the cottage very rarely. And besides, she's a painter. Who would suspect and old painter?"

He made it sound so uncomplicated, but she feared they got too deep into it. An international criminal consortium, operating in some of the most developed cities around the world with key figures everywhere, and then the four of them. Three former agents and two post-graduate students.

She ran her hand across her face, fatigue setting deep into her bones. "I need to get some rest." She stood up and walked toward the bed only to stop herself mid-journey.

She looked at Nicola and then at Mulder. Of course, living with two male egos, a woman had to solve the practical problems on her own.

Mulder raised his head questioningly at her, while Nicola just looked at her.

"What is it?" Mulder finally asked.

"Well, that's a rich one," Scully replied, "two of the finest intuitive and analytical minds I have ever met, and yet it didn't occur to either of you that there's only one bed."

Nicola's lips broadened into an infectious smile he tried in vain to stifle.

"Oh, so you think this is funny, too?" she sounded irritated.

"No, not that, only what has just passed Mulder's mind."

Mulder looked a little embarrassed.

"And what would that be?" Scully folded her hands.

Nicola looked at Mulder, his eyes challenging. "Shall I tell her?"

Scully stared at both of them. What was happening here? She could see Mulder's embarrassment, the silent plea to just let it go. And they couldn't exactly pretend they didn't know Nicola's abilities.

Mulder shook his head in surrender. This wasn't the usual love triangle. This was a marriage of thoughts, feelings and beliefs. His, hers and Nicola's. Could he really blame her that she confided in him, talked to him, cared for him? Could he? With all his selfish acts, unannounced trips and impulsive decisions?

"Yeah, you can tell her," Mulder said, finally, "but bear in mind that she's not going to appreciate it."

"You know what? Forget it," she interjected, his arms tightly folded.

"You sure?" Nicola teased her. "It's not exactly a bad idea, and might just become reality in a day or two."

He got her attention now, but she wouldn't succumb so easily to this mind-reading thought-sensing bravado. "I think I already know, and I think you're going to test the _idea_ on your own."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked, concerned at what she had in mind.

"I'm not sleeping here tonight," she stated and walked to the couch to gather her stuff.

Mulder's eyes showed a streak of fear, "Scully?"

She took off her robe and put on her jeans, sneakers and a grey sweater. She avoided looking at both of them, or she would have stayed. Zipping her bag, she looked at Mulder at last. "I'll see you in the morning," she told him and then looked at Nicola. "Sleep tight, Nicola."

With that she walked out the hotel room and onto the busy street. A sense of freedom enveloped her and she breathed in the night air. Her eyes closed on their own. They wanted to play with her? Make her the problem? Fine, let them enjoy each others company now. She fought hard inside before leaving them alone in the room, but now she realized it was the only right thing to do.

She put the duffel bag around her shoulder and walked down the street. Screw Poggia, screw the international conspiracy, screw Nicola and his captivating intensity, and yes, screw Mulder and his need to fight the future.

When exactly did she become a prerequisite, she wondered. And how did she manage time after time to find men that always tried so hard to protect her, ending only in smouldering her? Jack, Daniel, Jerse (yes, she counted that one, too), Mulder, Nicola. She was fed up with it. And she was fed up being in a foreign country, leaving an uncertain life, sharing her days with a priest that she got to know too well, and witnessing her relationship with Mulder deteriorate more with every passing minute.

She could feel eyes watching her, so she mingled in the crowd and disappeared into the night. It was only after twenty minutes of walking that she took her phone and dialled Rosa's number.

"Hey," Rosa's young gentle voice greeted her.

"Rosa, I'm sorry to bother you," she apologised, "is there any chance I could sleep at your place tonight."

She could tell Rosa was surprised at the sudden change of plans, but she didn't wait long to reply. "Yes, of course, I'm on 60 Via Volturno."

Via Volturno. Where did she know that street from? She turned and looked at the building behind her. She was standing right in front of 60 Via Volturno. So much about omens. "Actually, Rosa, I'm already here."

VIA VOLTURNO, ROME CITY CENTRE

SATURDAY, MAY 31 2015

23:41 HOURS

"I'm really thankful for your help, Rosa," Scully said as she sat in the comfortable couch, a mug of hot tea in her hand.

Rosa smiled, her blue eyes shining with youthful innocence. She had eyes like that once, before reality came crushing in. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders as she reached for her mug. She was enthralling. No wonder Marco lost it for her.

"It's okay," she replied, her tone warm and soothing. "I'm not sure I should ask you what happened."

Scully smiled weakly. "It's personal, but it's only fair that I give you an explanation under the circumstances."

Rosa leaned back on the couch. "There's no need. I can imagine what happened."

"You can?" Scully raised her brows, her tone higher than intended. Was she...?

Rosa shook her head, "I didn't mean that. I'm not like Marco or his father. I just noticed that something was going on between you, Nicola and Mulder. Never mind, it's none of my business."

Scully had to close her mouth. So, it was that noticeable. She sighed and looked down at the hot mug, warming her hands. She talked with her mother. Why did she feel like telling Rosa everything? "When did you notice it?"

Rosa inhaled deeply, knowing how difficult Marco could be and imagining what it was like to live with two individuals like Nicola and Mulder. "When Mulder found out about Nicola being Marco's father."

Scully nodded, "That was an awkward moment."

"You'll sort it out," Rosa tried to reassure her. "I know Nicola can be a handful and a very intense person, but he has a kind heart, just like Marco."

"What makes you think he's the problem?" Scully asked, afraid to hear the answer. Did Marco tell her?

Rosa's brows furrowed lightly. "The way you were looking at him when you helped him in the bathroom and later when we talked in the bedroom."

Scully leaned back, her shoulders slouched. Whether it was woman intuition or excellent observing skills or something else entirely, Rosa knew. But if Rosa saw it that clearly, Mulder sure as hell did, too.

"I'm sorry we pulled you in this mess," Scully said sincerely. "You have a life, plans... now it's all in jeopardy."

Rosa looked her in the eye. "Dana, you don't need to apologise to me, and you certainly don't own me an explanation. These things... they just happen. I have a life full of plans and will still have it when this is over." There was a strength in Rosa's voice and her eyes that went unnoticed until now. It awakened something powerful and hopeful in Scully's soul.

The two women looked into each other's eyes. Scully nodded slowly and broke the silence, "We should go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Rosa smiled and stood up, handing Scully a blanket and pillow. Scully admired her tall elegant figure as she moved effortlessly around the living room. There was something serene about her presence. Maybe it was the fact that she was spending time and talking to a woman after such a long time or maybe it was just Rosa's warm character that calmed her so profoundly.

Rosa switched off the main light and headed towards the door. "Oh, and Dana," she said before exiting the room, turning her head to Scully, "you do realize that you have them both at your mercy?"

Forget profoundly calmed now. Scully looked at Rosa with dead-serious eyes. "I don't want them at my mercy. I want them by my side." Nicola as a dear friend and Mulder as a partner in all possible meanings of the word, she thought.

"They already are by your side. Maybe it's you... maybe you got tired of a pilgrim's life," Rosa suggested, her tone gentle, non-accusing.

"A pilgrim's life?" Scully repeated, arching her brow.

Rosa nodded, "A life spent searching for the truth."

Scully's lips thinned and her eyes glistened with sadness. Was she really tired of it all? Not just being away from home and wandering, but of the search itself?

"I'll see you in the morning," she told Rosa, ignoring her comment.

"Sleep well," Rosa replied and left her alone in the living room.

She was relieved to be on her own at last. It was all starting to get too complicated, too surreal, and too consuming. Rosa struck a nerve with her comment. Maybe she really was tired of it all. The search, the danger, the inextricable relationships in her life.

But she loved Mulder and needed him desperately. And Nicola... his gentle soul, his caring nature... Maybe she didn't deserve either of them. Maybe she was meant to end up alone. She ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She learned a long time ago that she should never believe all the things that went through her mind when the night was at its darkest hour.

VIA VOLTURNO, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

06:12 HOURS

"I've never asked you what exactly is it that you do," Scully said in an apologising tone, while sipping her coffee.

Rosa looked at her with a shy smile on her face. "I studied Economics and International Relations. I worked for the ministry of foreign affairs for a year and half before starting my studies."

"PhD studies, right?" Scully asked.

She nodded, "Peace and security studies."

"I see," Scully contemplated, "Is that how you met Marco?"

"Oh, no, I met him at the Circolo. We both share a passion for music."

Scully smiled, remembering how it was like to be young and vibrant with energy. "He's a smart young men. Handsome, too."

Rosa lips curled, "And stubborn."

"I guess he gets that from his father," Scully commented.

Rosa smiled broadly, knowing full well how much alike Nicola and Marco were. "You seem very fond of him," Rosa tried.

"Who? Marco?" Scully asked.

"No, not Marco. Nicola," Rosa replied.

Scully blushed a little at the unexpected question, feeling rather contrite. But then... she came to this girl in the middle of the night with no clear explanation and she offered her a shelter without pesky questions. "I do," Scully nodded, looking at her hand and then at Rosa, "probably more than I should."

"I had a crush on him when I was a little girl. Uncle Gino used to tease me about it all the time in front of Nicola. I felt mortified, but Nicola just laughed."

Scully's lips quirked at the corners. "Thank you for being so candid about it."

Rosa smiled back, "He's a remarkable man, honest, intelligent and so perceptive. You can imagine my astonishment when I learned of Marco."

"I shouldn't be asking you this," Scully apologized in advance, "but I was wondering - did you ever -," Scully's couldn't put it correctly.

"Have feelings for him later on?" Rosa helped her out.

Scully nodded, mortally ashamed. It was so unlike her to ask things like this.

"I adore him, but the infatuation is long gone," Rosa spoke quietly. "I was just a little girl, unaware of many things."

But Scully wasn't just a little girl. She was a woman aware of many pitfalls and trials. She sighed. "These things... they happen without rhyme or reason sometimes."

"Sometimes," Rosa agreed. "But not always."

Scully sighed and looked at Rosa, "I'm sorry for dropping this on you like this."

"I can assure you far worse things have happened to me," Rosa replied with a smirk.

Scully looked into her eyes and smiled gratefully. "Can I ask you something else?" Scully asked then, her face getting more serious.

"Sure."

"What do you your parents do?"

Rosa hesitated for a moment, her eyebrow curling. "My father is the general president of the Supreme Court of Cassation, and my mother works as the Attorney General, but," she paused, "she's also the former Minister of the Interior."

Scully concealed her surprise. She understood now Rosa's concern. Her mother would probably tear the police force upside down to find her if she went suddenly missing. Not to mention all the other implications related to both her parent's professions. "And she never mentioned anything about this shadowy criminal cabal organisation?" Scully asked.

"No, never," Rosa shook her head. "But then again, she didn't talk much about work. It was a rule to keep work out of family life."

"Did you tell her about it?"

"Only that I have to leave to do some research on the latest developments in international cyber attacks. She doesn't know Marco's coming with me. And she doesn't know about you or Mulder."

Scully could tell it was hard for her to lie to her parents, but the danger she would put them in if she told the truth was much bigger. "How long have you and Marco been together?" Scully asked, changing the subject.

"Three weeks," Rosa's cheeks reddened.

Scully disregarded the raw emotions showing on her face. It was obvious she got it bad for Marco. Just as bad as she got it for Mulder.

"I've known him for quite some time," Rosa continued. "Sometimes it feels like I've known him forever."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Scully added, thinking about Mulder.

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly. Every second that passed was a second bestowed onto their enemies.

"We should go," Scully interrupted the silence.

Rosa lips thinned, "I'll call, Marco."

"No, no phones," Scully reminded her.

Rosa closed her eyes for a moment, "Of course."

NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

07:02 HOURS

"We don't have a lot of time," Mulder said as they stood in the hotel bedroom with their unzipped suitcases laying on the floor.

Marco turned to him, "My dad went out to place a call to father Leonardo. Something about his absence from the parish."

Mulder nodded in understanding and looked at Rosa. She was quieter than usual.

"What's the plan, Mulder?" Scully asked while ordering her medical bag.

He turned to her, "To travel to a safe place."

She turned to him. "You know it's more complicated than that." They could be caught in numerous ways. Phone-tracking, car-tracking, video-tracking, and other forms of tracking ran rampant across the U.S. and Europe. It was a fugitive's nightmare to live in the post-modern world.

"I know that, Scully," Mulder responded flatly, "but Poggia is going to help us get out of the city. And I've taken some precautions."

"We bought new pre-paid phones with cash yesterday. We'll buy SIM cards at our destinations which is still unknown to me. But I'm guessing it's Switzerland or even farther up north since we also got blankets, bivy sacks for everyone and provisions for two weeks," Marco jumped in.

Scully looked at Marco. He was focused, edgy. Much like all of them. But there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. Something deep, untouched, pristine. But also something untamed, hard to control and completely unpredictable. He nodded slightly at her as if confirming what she just conjured in her mind. Seeing his eyes on her, she winced but concealed it instantly.

"I'm done," Nicola announced as he entered the bedroom.

"Great," Marco replied and turned to him, his tone far from excited.

"What's wrong?" Nicola asked, seeing Mulder's pale expression as he watched the news on his phone.

Mulder looked up, "We're on the news."

Scully's eyes widened, "What?!"

Mulder nodded, fear written all over his face.

"Who exactly is on the news? All of us?" Rosa asked. If she was afraid, she didn't let on anything.

Mulder turned to her, "No, no... Scully, Nicola and I. It says we are wanted for father Gino's murder."

"Well, fuck them," Marco said. "You didn't do it, that's all that matters."

"No," Rosa interjected, "you don't understand. It'll make it really hard for them to get out of the country now."

Marco's eyebrows creased, "No, not necessarily."

"What do you mean?" Nicola asked him.

"You still have those fake passports, don't you?" Marco asked Mulder.

Mulder nodded dumbfounded, "I never told you..."

"Never mind," Marco cut him off. "Scully told my dad."

"What?" she looked at Scully, but she put on her professional no-nonsense look.

"Mulder, you do have them?" Marco asked again.

"Yeah, I do."

"That's great. We need to get fake I.D.'s as well," Marco said, turning to Rosa.

"What? No!" Rosa protested. "You know that could put in danger my parents."

"Rosa, your parents will be in a far greater danger if you travel with your true I.D.," Marco insisted. "Think about it - _they_ might know nothing now, but once they discover that you are Gino's niece..." his voice drifted.

"They will be looking for you everywhere," Mulder finished for Marco.

"Wait," Nicola interfered, "where are you going to find passports so quickly?"

"Let's just say I can," he responded. There, the untamed, uncontrollable was now in plain view.

There were long moments of silence. The news lowered the morale and Marco's idea, although reasonable, made them tense. There was no way Poggia could help them as easily as before.

"Go," Nicola said, putting an end to endless worries. "Be careful, and remember -."

"I know. _Fidelis et fortis_ ," Marco replied and took Rosa's hand in his. "Are you with me?" he asked her in a gentle, hopeful tone.

Rosa looked at him, blue eyes full of mixed emotions. Scully could see her struggle, knew it intimately. How many times Mulder invoked those emotions in her? She looked at Mulder and met his soft gaze. He must have thought the same thing, looking at Marco and Rosa. It had to be precious having someone attuned to your thoughts that way. "I am," she heard Rosa say.

Marco sighed in relief and smiled. "We'll be back in an hour."

"Watch out, Marco," Nicola called after him, but heard only the door close. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath.

"He's going to be alright," Mulder reassured him. "He's bright and resourceful."

Nicola looked at him, "I need to see that article." Mulder handed him his phone.

"Does this change our route?" Scully asked.

"Not significantly," Nicola replied, his eyes fixed on the phone display. "It doesn't say your names, it just says you're an American couple and there's a physical description of both of you. But it says everything about me. Almost my whole curriculum. What have you done, Gino?" he said more to himself than to them. "I need to call father Leonardo again."

"Who is he?" Mulder asked then.

"Close friend of Gino, and the leader of Soldiers and Pilgrims," Nicola replied, looking him in the eye. He knew Mulder was sceptical of the organisation.

"Soldiers and Pilgrims?" Scully arched her brow. "I almost forgot about it."

"It's supposed to be a secret, known just to the higher ranks of Jesuits and the selected few outside the order," he pointed out. "I told both of you because of extraordinary circumstances. Marco doesn't know anything about it. Neither does Rosa."

"Any chance you could tell us more?" Scully asked with a defying look.

Nicola sighed, looked down and then up at her again, "The organisation was founded in the 16th century, following the teachings of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. It's mostly unstructured and informal, but it has its leader and assistants. These are carefully chosen men within the Jesuit order and sometimes out of it who help fellow Jesuits, monks, priests, and sometimes even lay persons in times of great need. They are men beyond reproach, honest to a fault and highly educated."

"How exactly do they _help_ them?" Mulder asked warily.

"Morally, financially. Whatever they need, actually, as long as it doesn't go against the teachings of Saint Ignatius," Nicola explained. He understood all too well Mulder's distrust. The Church had its many flaws and long lists of wrongdoings.

Scully's brow arched a little when she processed Nicola's explanation. "I'm sorry, how do they know who needs help and how does even one turn to them for help if they are so secretive?"

He looked at her, his eyes vulnerable and luminous, and sighed, "They gather information discreetly but incessantly. They make contact first, usually."

"So, they contacted you now?" Scully pressed further.

"Not exactly," Nicola replied, his voice faltering all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Mulder's eyes showed hints of anger and confusion. He trusted Nicola, but he was starting to test his patience.

Nicola inhaled deeply, "When I said I was helping out Poggia in the investigation, it wasn't the whole truth. I was also helping Soldiers and Pilgrims."

Scully looked at Mulder and saw his own astonishment.

Nicola sat on the couch and looked down for a brief moment. So many secrets, so little time.

"Gino was head of the Soldiers and Pilgrims at that time, wasn't he?" Mulder asked, his eyes fixed on Nicola.

Nicola swallowed, "Yes, he was."

Scully's lips parted, but she couldn't utter anything. The fact that he held back so much, that he didn't trust them as they trusted him, when he knew what was at stake from the very beginning, drove a pin deep into her heart. Right there were all her insecurities lay.

"I should have told you," Nicola said when he saw her expression, "all of it." He turned to Mulder. "But I couldn't betray Gino's trust."

She didn't know that would be her breaking point. She didn't believe she would lose it like that in front of Mulder. But something inside her rose and demanded more than he was giving. Her eyes flared at him. "You couldn't break Gino's trust?! We came to you in good faith, Nicola, explained everything. I talked for hours at a time with you about personal things! And you never said a damn thing about any of this!"

"Scully," Mulder spoke in a guarded tone, trying to calm her outburst.

"Don't," she warned him and turned again to Nicola. "I trusted you."

Her eyes bore deep into his very being. He felt his chest tying into a large painful knot. The last thing he wanted was to upset her, much less betray her trust. He looked at her with sorrowful eyes, "I know."

"Scully, you're making it too personal," Mulder interfered.

She shot him a furious look. "Maybe you should have played by the book a few years ago and I would have been left with something more than just personal matters."

That hit him more than she imagined or wanted to. His eyes clouded with repressed emotions that he managed to keep at bay until that moment. "Maybe you shouldn't have bore your soul to our good father so impatiently and completely."

She swallowed hard. Her cheeks burned with anger and guilt, her eyes stared into his. The air almost crackled with electricity. "Because you so kindly invited me to join you on your goose chases."

Feeling utterly ashamed and completely out of control, Nicola sat on the couch and observed the meltdown of a relationship, friendship and companionship all at once. His throat burned and ached with words unsaid, his heart raced and his head started to throb again.

"Is that what you think of it? Of our search?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"It always matters, Scully."

He could hear them speaking in a calmer tone now, although the edge was still there.

"You have an interesting way of showing it."

"All I did - I did it to protect you!"

"You did it because you decided it was more convenient for you to do it alone. Because you like to run around, expecting the next great unbelievable thing. You never stop."

He could hear them, but his vision started to blur. He got up slowly, helping himself with his hands. If he only could reach the bathroom, drink some water.

"I don't just run around. There are leads-"

There was a thump.

"What? Nicola!" Scully cried out and quickly kneeled beside him. Mulder kneeled down to him as well, trying to understand what just happened. "Can you hear me?"

He could hear her. Even if thousands of voices called out to him, he could still make out her own. But he couldn't speak. Something was wrong. The world was disappearing, darkness surged from cimmerian corners of nothingness, and slowly her voice faded into the darkest of nights.

Mulder looked at Scully, "What's happening to him?"

"Nicola!" she called out to him again, but there was no answer. "He's got pulse. No signs of a heart attack. Lift up his legs."

Mulder did as told and lifted up Nicola's legs. "Come on, big boy, come on," Mulder encouraged him. And just before Scully started CPR on him, Nicola slowly opened his eyes.

"There he is," Mulder stated the obvious, relief flooding his voice. "Welcome back."

Scully brushed Nicola's forehead with her fingers and exhaled loudly. "Vasovagal syncope."

"Brought on by what?" Mulder asked, helping Nicola get up and seat on the bed.

"It happens when the body overreacts to certain triggers, such as the sight of blood, high body temperature, crowded places or extreme emotional distress," Scully replied, checking Nicola's eyes. "You should be fine."

"I guess we can rule out blood, body temperature and crowded places," Mulder remarked, his tone somewhat gentler now.

"Can you speak?" Scully asked Nicola.

He nodded, "Yes, I'm alright."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You're still affected from all that has happened," she apologized, but he shook his head.

"It's not your fault," he replied, ashamed to look Mulder in the eye.

"I need to measure your pressure," she said, lifting up his sleeve.

He helped her and when the little machine ended beeping she finally relaxed. "It's within normal values."

"Thank God," Nicola half joked, making Mulder chuckle for a brief moment. He was standing right beside Scully, and Nicola looked at him for the first time since he regained consciousness.

There was an understanding between the two men, unspoken words and heartfelt looks, that Scully saw before but had never given it much thought. She wondered what they talked about when she left them alone the night before.

"Things of life," Nicola said and looked at her with soulful eyes.

She pressed her jaw together. The syncope episode didn't just make things right between them. She folded her hands and kept her composure. "It must be your favourite subject," she commented dryly.

"It's in my job description," he said softly with no intention to argue.

"Yeah? Which one?" she retorted.

Nicola closed his eyes and nodded. Looking at his open suitcase, he said, "I need to change clothes. Marco and Rosa should be here soon." With that he went to the bathroom, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.

She looked at Mulder and saw the carefully hidden sadness in his hazel eyes. She wanted to say something, wipe away the pain. "We need to finish up packing, too."

"I'm finished," Mulder replied and repeated, "finished." He felt exhausted. Learning that she talked with Nicola about things she used to talk with him and him only, sparked unpleasant thoughts that gnawed at his soul. Was it just talking or something more? He couldn't picture her betraying him, but God knew he hadn't exactly been the partner she needed him to be.

She looked at him with a profound, unsettling guilt over something she didn't do, and yet felt like she did it all and more. Whether it was a slowly developing guilt complex or simply false guilt, it didn't matter to her anymore. All pretexts were off. "We need to talk."

He looked back at her, "Feels like that's all we've be doing for the last few months."

"No, Mulder, I mean really talk," she pushed.

"So talk to me," he challenged her.

She lowered her head and looked back up at him. "I miss you."

The sincerity in her eyes and voice made him swallow. Hard. He was prepared for sarcasm, irony, even defiance, but not simple heart-wrenching honesty.

He stepped to her, closing the distance between them, and searched her hand. He kissed the centre of her palm, making her close her eyes, and placed it on his chest.

She looked into his eyes, scared, honest, loving eyes. Her whole world was in those glimmering hazel pools.

"I miss you more," he rasped, voice full of emotion. He was fighting his own tears.

A sob tore through her and he pulled her into his arms, embracing her tiny form.

"Why do we do this to ourselves?" she asked.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"We still need to talk," she insisted, her cheek pressed into his chest.

He hummed, "I know."

Nicola stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped when he saw them hugged tightly. He lowered his gaze and went for his suitcase. A pang resonated through his heart when he saw her love for Mulder, confirming yet again what he already knew. Mulder was the love of her life, while he was just an amorous anomaly.

She let Mulder go reluctantly and wiped her cheeks. This cohabitation was starting to feel uncomfortable, and it was only the beginning. Mulder brushed her shoulder gently and she smiled weakly at him.

"We got them," Marco shouted as he entered the door with Rosa, but saw instantly that something was wrong. He was about to ask what happened but Scully implored him with her face not to. He pursed his lips in reluctance.

"I saw my mother, spoke to her," Rosa cut the awkward silence.

Nicola raised his head, concern written all over his face. They all waited for her to go on.

"She knows about the organisation, always has," Rosa's voice trembled. "That's why she made it an imperative not to show her link to the Vatican, to uncle Gino."

"What did you tell her?" Nicola asked, afraid of what he might hear.

"I didn't have to tell her anything. She figured it on her own that something must be very wrong if I'm taking a leave right before my exams," she paused.

Mulder felt for the girl. She was thrown suddenly into the mayhem of corruption, lies, conspiracies and murderous intentions. So young, so full of life, so ingenuous. Much like Scully when he first met her.

"She first learned of this group as a young attorney and uncle Gino confirmed her worst fears," Rosa went on.

"Does she know where you're going or whom with?" Mulder asked.

"No, she didn't want to know," Rosa replied, her eyes shot read.

Marco circled her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. Mulder looked at Scully. He wanted to hug her again.

"Does your father know anything?" Nicola asked then.

Rosa shook her head, "No, my mom never told him. And if he found out some other way, he never said anything."

"But she knows about you," Rosa looked at Scully.

Scully's eyebrows arched, "Me? What do you mean?"

"A good friend of hers is a doctor at the hospital where you volunteered to work," Rosa explained. "She called her when she read the news earlier and told her that she worked with you. She spoke very highly of you."

Scully didn't know what to say. "Small world."

"Yeah," Marco agreed.

"She probably knows that we're together in this. It isn't that hard to connect the dots if you know what you're looking for or looking at. And she was relieved that a person of your character is with me," Rosa added, looking at Scully.

"Did she say anything about me?" Mulder chimed in.

Rosa turned to him and hesitated. Marco tried to control himself but burst into laughter, earning a confused look from all of them.

"What?" Mulder asked in a hurt tone.

"Go on, tell him," Marco encouraged Rosa.

She sighed, "She said you're very charming and handsome, but a little out there."

Scully looked at Mulder's hurt ego and couldn't contain her own chuckle.

"As long as I'm charming and handsome," Mulder commented.

But Nicola was in no mood to joke or laugh. He was afraid they wouldn't make it out of Rome. Hell, he was starting to be afraid they wouldn't make it out of the hotel. "We should really be going. Father Leonardo set us up with a car, but we need to get to Piazza San Pietro first."

"Isn't that a little too risky? Piazza San Pietro?" Marco asked.

"Yeah, but it's also full of people, which makes it easier for us to hide and evade," Nicola explained.

Scully sensed clearly his uneasiness, even fear. It was a hard time for him. One of his closest friends was either killed or gone missing, his relationship with her was without question a burden he did not need right now, and now he was wrongfully accused of murder.

But there was also an aura of resilience around him, a confidence and poise that could not be shaken. She watched him intently as he rose from the couch, instructing Marco and Rosa to meet him in Piazza San Pietro in thirty minutes. He was a force on its own. Mulder was right about that. His black clothes and priestly collar were gone. Clad in dark blue jeans and a grey light sweater he could have been about anyone. She noticed he let his stubble grow, giving him a rougher, more seasoned look. Far from that boyish appearance he sported just a few days ago. Far from that relaxed and easy-going manner he projected all the time.

"You should avoid everything that leaves a digital footprint," Nicola warned Rosa and Marco. "No credit cards, no phones, no internet, no gps. We don't call each other by our names in front of others, we don't stay too long in the same spot, and we act like we belong right where we are at any given moment. We'll take your suitcases. You will draw much less attention without them."

"It seems like you've never quit your MI5 job," Scully noted when Rosa and Marco left the room.

He looked at her with the corner of his eye but said nothing. He was serious, reserved, eerily calm. It amazed her how he could switch into agent mode so completely and easily. But then again, that was what Mulder often told her. That she switched in a matter of no time into doctor mode.

"Always drawn to control, aren't you?"

Her eyes widened a little, "What-?"

"Yeah, you are," he pushed further. "You're intrigued by that fine line between letting go and holding on forever."

She swallowed. There was something dark in his stare. Something she never saw before in him. Where was this coming from?

"We have deep souls, Dana," he said in a resigned tone. "One never knows how deep."

Her lips thinned, and she contemplated whether it was wise to carry on this conversation. Mulder was about to walk out of the bathroom in any second. She watched Nicola intently. He was sitting on the couch and folding something with his fingers, wrapped in his thoughts and yet mindful. He wouldn't look at her.

"Who's we?" she asked then.

He looked at her for a second and resumed whatever he was doing with his fingers. "Whoever you want it to be."

He wasn't making any sense. And she hated it when someone wasn't making any sense. "You're bored, aren't you?"

This time he looked at her wide-eyed, "Bored?"

She cleared her throat. Why was it so dry? "You heard me. You're shocked by the latest events, but you are also bored to the core."

Bored? Was he? But before he would allow himself to go into that abyss, he just replied, "I don't see how I could be bored."

"Cut the b.s., Nicola," her voice was suddenly sharp. "Do you really want to know about me? How hard it is for me to relinquish control? Is that what you want?"

He saw the fire in her eyes and responded in the like. "Yes."

She stared at him, lips parted and eyes angry. His answer barely registered in her mind. Yes. Yes?

"Yes, dammit," he stood up. "I want to know. I want to see it, I want to feel it, I want to taste it." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes ablaze and raw.

"Stop it," she warned him, "we've been through this. There's nothing we can do about it." She couldn't understand what brought this on. Unless... Of course, the hug she shared with Mulder. He saw it. "Get your bearings together. There's a long road in front of us."

The intensity of his stare subsided, but she could tell the fierceness of his feelings didn't. A soft sigh escaped her lips. This wasn't a good time to get into fights and clarifications.

Mulder stepped out of the bathroom in new clothes and shaved. Despite all, he looked so fresh and attractive. "It's time to go."

"Yeah," she replied and grabbed her suitcase and medical bag.

Mulder zipped his bag and walked to the door, his suitcase and jacket on his shoulder.

Nicola looked at her and extended his arm, "Right after you." He took the remaining suitcases and switched off the lights.

They left the room in silence, unaware of the storm that was coming.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference."

\- Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

"He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,

And went with half my life about my ways."

\- A. E. Housman, He would not stay for me, and who can wonder


	7. Into the Storm I

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 7

Into the Storm I

* * *

PIAZZA SAN PIETRO

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

9:21 HOURS

St Peter's Square was fairly crowded, allowing them to walk at its edges unseen. Father Leonardo sent one of his assistants to wait for them just a block away from the square.

"Remind me again why do we have to walk through here?" Scully asked Nicola as they walked side by side.

"The square is under surveillance 24/7. Let them think that I'm on my own," he explained confidently, walking an invisible trajectory in front of him.

She arched her brow, "But you're not alone. We are right here."

"Yes, but you're both in a blind spot. They can't see you on camera," he replied.

She looked right behind her at Mulder. He nodded slightly.

"What about Marco and Rosa?" Mulder asked.

"They are already at our meeting point with father Leonardo's assistant," he replied without looking behind. "Dammit," he cursed, "stand where you are, maybe it's just a random check."

She looked in front of her and saw a police car stopping right ahead of them. Two police officers stepped out of the car, looked around and started walking in their direction.

"We are in trouble," Mulder stated alarmed.

"Don't move," Nicola warned him.

"No, act casually," Scully said then. "Take out the map," she instructed Mulder while she made it look like she was talking to someone on the phone.

Nicola followed her advice, taking his own phone out of his pocket.

The younger police officer pointed at them and both officers sped their steps up toward them.

Nicola tensed, "It's not working."

"Stay still," Scully ordered, avoiding looking at Nicola.

Mulder glued his face to the map and hoped for a divine intervention at that point. He could hear the footsteps. So near, so loud. He closed his eyes and reopened. The two officers ran just past them, not even noticing him, or Nicola and Scully for that matter.

Nicola exhaled loudly, still pretending to be on the phone and taking the opportunity to look at Scully.

She felt her own rush of adrenaline washing through her. She searched for Mulder's eyes and the faintest smile passed her lips.

When they exited St Peter's Square, Nicola turned to her. "How did you know they weren't there for us?"

"I didn't," she replied. "But I did hear a quarrel in one of the bars we passed and hopped to God they were there for that. Couldn't you tell why they came?" Scully asked Nicola.

"It doesn't work like that," Nicola shook his head.

They walked for another five minutes and turned into an empty street with a parking lot. Nicola's face lit up when he saw Marco and Rosa.

"You made it," Rosa exclaimed in relief

Nicola smiled at them, "You have no idea."

"You should get out of Rome as soon as possible."

Nicola turned abruptly to his left. "Leonardo?"

A tall man in his fifties with clear blue eyes and a greying beard walked up to Nicola and hugged him. "My assistant turned out to be a mole. Luckily, we have found out before he was able to communicate your location. It's a mess, Nicola."

"What?" Nicola asked completely shocked.

Leonardo nodded. "It's a first. It never happened before."

Nicola sighed, "These men ... they've infiltrated everywhere."

Leonardo turned to Mulder and Scully. "You must be Nicola's friends."

"We must be," Mulder shook his hand.

Leonardo turned to Scully and offered his hand, "I wish we could meet under other circumstances."

"We all do," Scully replied.

"Your luggage is in the car we arranged for you," Leonardo explained, "along with all your provisions and gear. Drive without stopping until you reach the Great St Bernard Pass. Ditch your car somewhere out of sight and under thick trees. I will send someone for you. Do not proceed alone or you will not make it. If he isn't there right away, wait for him as long as needed."

Scully closed her eyes. They were fugitives again. She looked at Mulder and Nicola. They were both intently listening to father Leonardo. "There's a storm coming," Leonardo's voice echoed in her ears. "And Mr Mulder?" Leonardo turned his head to Mulder. "You might not be here out of your own choice, but you are here for the Truth. Don't forget that."

Mulder smiled, "I've always been fond of the Truth, father."

"Excuse me, father," Scully spoke then, earning the attention of all of them. "What did you exactly mean that a storm is coming?"

"Didn't you tell them?" Leonardo asked Nicola.

Nicola shook his head, "You said it was 'need to know only'."

"And you somehow thought that the persons who are fleeing with you do not need to know?" Leonardo inquired, his eyes fixing Nicola in an intimidating way.

Nicola swallowed, trying to find an appropriate answer. Mulder stared at him coldly while Scully waited patiently for an explanation.

Leonardo turned to Mulder and Scully, "Let me apologise on behalf of my trusted friend. He's always had some problems trusting others. Rosa and Marco already know him well, but you don't."

Scully's cool exterior was about to implode. So, he really didn't trust them.

Nicola was mortified. He looked at Mulder and then at her, apology written all over his face.

"You see," Leonardo began, "father Gino discovered more than financial frauds and scams. He managed to get his hands on a video that implicates some of the most prominent members of this cabal. It shows a horrifying experiment being performed on unsuspecting pregnant women, using unknown technology and a black liquid substance in the process."

"You knew about this?" Mulder turned to Nicola with narrow eyes.

Nicola nodded, "Yeah."

"You can imagine what they are prepared to do to ensure that video never gets seen by the public," Leonardo went on.

Marco stared at father Leonardo. This matter was getting more and more ridiculous in his eyes. "How can you be sure it's not a fake?"

Leonardo looked at him, "I'm not sure you want to know."

"I'm afraid that moment has come and gone," Marco replied.

Leonardo shook his head, "It's not for me to tell you. And you need to leave Rome. Now."

A police car turned up the aisle and Leonardo urged them all to step behind a truck. "Here are the car keys and a new identity for you, Nicola. Do not try to contact me from now on. If need be, I'll find a way to contact you. Trust no one and remember-"

"... _fidelis et fortis_ ," Nicola replied in a low tone.

" _Fidelis et fortis_ ," Leonardo repeated.

"Really?" Marco remarked snidely.

They heard a movement on the other side of the truck then and froze. "Quick, lower your heads," Leonardo urged them. He took a small leather book from his pocket and lifted his hand above their heads. Mulder looked at Scully for a brief moment and then at Leonardo. "Oh God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: preserve those who travel-,"

"Boungiorno," a police officer greeted them.

Leonardo turned to him with benevolent eyes and a shy smile on his lips, "Buongiorno, signor poliziotto, come posso aiutarla?"

Scully could understand that the police officer was asking Leonardo why they moved behind the truck. Two men and a woman were wanted for the murder of a priest, the police officer explained further. Leonardo replied that he wanted some privacy to perform a small holy ritual - the blessing of travellers - for his brothers and sisters in faith. They had just visited St Peter's Square and were heading on to France.

The police officer asked for their documents, inspecting each photo carefully. "UK citizens," the police officer noted. They all nodded and smiled at him. "You are related?"

"We're family, yes," Nicola replied quickly and confidently. "Michael is my brother," he replied in an impeccable British accent and turned to Mulder.

"Alright, everything seems in place," the police officer smiled. "Have a safe journey to France."

Nicola sighed in relief when the police officer left.

"You may want to finish that blessing, father," Mulder told Leonardo.

Rosa chuckled lightly and shrugged when Marco shot her an angry eye.

"Get into that car over there, parked second in the row, and leave the city immediately. Maybe, just maybe, this subtle disguise of yours will work," Leonardo said, his voice hopeful. "Have faith," he told Marco, "your gift isn't ominous."

Marco's cheeks reddened slightly, "I'll try."

"I will give you my blessings, Mr Mulder. To all of you," Leonardo looked at each one of them, lifting discreetly both his hands. Mulder supressed any cynical comment, knowing what was at stake and out of respect for others. "May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace."

The words invoked long forgotten memories in Scully, of her mother and father, her catholic upbringing, hopes and fears. She felt consumed for a few moments.

Nicola thanked Leonardo again and hugged him. He walked to the car with Mulder and Marco, exchanging looks with Scully and Rosa who stayed with Leonardo.

"You two are stronger than the three of them," Leonardo told Scully and Rosa. "You know that right?"

"Yeah, I think we do," Rosa replied and looked at Scully. "Goodbye, father," she said and followed Marco to the car.

Scully shook her head slightly and smiled, "I wish I had the chance to know you."

Father Leonardo smiled back. "Oh, you will. But go now," he said softly.

"Goodbye, father," she replied and joined the others. "Go," she said to Nicola when she closed the car door.

ON THE ROAD TO SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

13:04 HOURS

She watched them both from the back seat. Nicola was driving. Mulder was holding a map. They seemed unfazed by what was happening. Nicola avoided highways and all roads with video surveillance, which led them to remote but stunning places. She turned to her left and saw Rosa napping against Marco's shoulder.

She smiled warmly at Marco and he smiled slowly back, placing a kiss on Rosa's head. She looked out of the window, at trees and hills, small villages and green pastures. How many times did she wonder what it would be like to lead a normal life with a husband and kids of her own, maybe a dog, have more time to spend with her mother and friends? Could she really live such a life?

"You could," Marco spoke softly.

She turned to him and closed her eyes, smirking. The gift. The special gift that neither the son nor his father could entirely control, and yet it served them quite well.

"I don't know," Scully replied, eyes fixed on a distant point in the nearby forest.

"It's a common misperception," Marco continued.

She looked at the church tower in the distance, "What is?"

"That we will somehow fail if we let go," he responded.

Rosa squirmed in his arms and mumbled something. "Shh," he reassured her.

Letting go was something she barely practiced. Being a navy captain's daughter, she was brought up believing that she had to fight for what she wanted. And fought she had, alone and alongside Mulder. Never give up, that was their mutual accord. It made them come closer to each other, but it was also the one thing that could drive them apart. The relentlessness was good only as long as it served a reasonable purpose.

"I can't look into the darkness with you any more, Mulder. I cannot stand what it does to you or to me," her saddened eyes bore into Mulder's that gloomy day seven years ago. She was determined to make him understand that she was done with the FBI, the tireless search for the truth and the darkness it brought into their lives.

"Can you ... let go?" she asked Marco.

"Yes," he nodded. "I have."

She pressed her lips together, wondering if Nicola could too.

Marco smiled, "We're alike in that way."

She turned abruptly to him and her cheeks reddened slightly. "I'll never get used to this," she whispered.

His smile broadened. "You don't need to," he whispered back.

"We got company," Mulder stated as a black SUV drove by and in front of them.

"Rosa, wake up," Marco gently shook her shoulder. "Are you sure it's them?"

"Only one way to find out," Nicola replied and veered left unexpectedly.

Rosa clutched Marco's hand and Scully's thigh, barely acknowledging what was happening. The black SUV changed lane as well, making it impossible for Nicola to pass.

"Definitely looks like them," Mulder commented. "Turn right on that unpaved road when I tell you."

Nicola gripped the steering wheel harder and waited for Mulder's signal. The unpaved road was just a few meters away. "They are slowing down."

Scully could see they were not just slowing down, but also opening the windows. "Change lane. Now!"

Nicola turned right without questioning Scully's command. It took him only a second more to realize what she saw. The men in the SUV were about to point guns at their wheels. The sudden movement incapacitated them enough for Nicola to take the unpaved road on Mulder's cue. He sped through the narrow turns, took another turn left on a rut-road and parked behind a thick shrubbery.

Scully turned around to check if they were still being followed but saw nothing.

Rosa looked at her, scared but controlled. "How did they find us?" she asked.

"Did anyone of you leave their phone on?" Nicola asked with an austere tone.

"No," Marco and Rosa replied in one voice. Mulder shook his head while Scully checked her own. "Not mine either."

Nicola clutched the wheel subconsciously, "Then there's only one explanation."

"The car has been tracked," Mulder said.

"Yes, by Leonardo," Nicola replied.

Rosa gasped, "He's on it, too?"

Nicola shrugged.

"No, I don't think so," Mulder spoke softly. He turned to Scully, "I think it was a test."

"A test?" Scully asked, arching her eyebrow.

"Yeah, to see how far we are willing to go ... how determined we are to resist," Mulder replied.

"What are you talking about?!" Marco cut in.

Mulder nodded, "Yeah, think about it. We're a liability. We know too much of not only this notorious cabal but also of the Jesuits' Soldiers and Pilgrims. If we caved in, Leonardo's men would probably take us back to Rome."

"Mulder's right. It was a test," Nicola confirmed quietly.

"How can you be so sure?" Rosa asked.

" _Fidelis et fortis -_ faithful and strong," Marco said then. "It's a code, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," Nicola replied, looking at his son. "But I didn't know he would act on it."

Scully sighed and settled back in the seat. "I hope we passed," she said, her tone bearing a hint of sarcasm.

Marco smirked and shook his head.

"But what if it wasn't Leonardo?" Rosa asked, still perplexed.

"We wouldn't have made it this far. They had plenty of chance to shoot at us, but didn't, and I think they were never meant to," Mulder replied and looked at Nicola. "You're full of mysteries, aren't you?"

Nicola chuckled, "Look who's talking."

"Maybe we should continue travelling off-road as long as possible?" Scully suggested. "This car's surely made for off-road driving."

"Since when do you know cars?" Mulder eyed her.

"It's a Volvo XC60, Mulder. I've always known cars. You just never cared to notice," she replied calmly.

"Give me the map," Nicola told Mulder. "This road," he examined the map carefully, "will eventually lead us to the main road."

"Great, what are we waiting for?" Marco asked.

"We could have lunch here," Mulder suggested. "It's secluded, surveillance-free and relaxing."

"Good thinking," Rosa agreed and pushed Marco out of the car.

Nicola chuckled and stepped outside as well. The only thing that bothered him was the feeling this place invoked within him. The same feeling he got at that special place at the lake just days ago that now reminded him of her and only her.

Scully could feel Nicola's eyes on her, but refused to give it importance. Mulder was getting out the bag with food when Nicola walked to her, offering her hot tea. "This place-,"

"Don't," she said, looking him in the eye.

His jaw tightened, "Don't what? Deny?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "Don't start," she replied in a sharp low tone.

"Here's the blanket," Marco said as he walked to them.

"Thank you," Scully replied, stepping away from Nicola.

"We should get going as soon as possible. Don't get too comfortable," Mulder warned them and put down the bag with food.

Scully took a sandwich out of a plastic wrap and handed it to Rosa. "I think we shouldn't even be stopping, but then again this might just be the perfect detour no one expected from us."

"I agree," Marco said, "predictable behaviour is very dangerous."

"What if we camp here?" Rosa asked jokingly.

Marco chuckled, "Camping? You?"

"What exactly are you implying?" Rosa protested, undignified.

Mulder and Scully chuckled lightly at them. It felt good. So good that it made Mulder gaze at Scully in wonder.

"Where's Nicola?" Rosa asked.

Scully looked behind her, to where he was standing before, but he was gone.

"In the car," Marco replied, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Isn't he hungry?" Rosa asked.

"Oh, yeah, he is," Marco replied and smirked, "of all the things he shouldn't be."

"Marco," Rosa said, reprimanding him.

Scully saw the expression on Mulder's face change and placed her hand on his arm to calm him down. Marco shrugged and took another bite, "It's human nature. I'm not judging him, or anyone else. We're all born into the same boat of wishes and fears."

Scully recalled Nicola's words about Marco's incessant need to discuss life and everything that surrounds it. That had to be one of those fine moments.

Rosa looked at him with understanding eyes and sighed, "You don't have to be so blunt about it."

Marco looked at her with raised eyebrows, entirely oblivious of what his comment awakened. Scully cleared her throat, making Marco turn to her and Mulder.

"Sorry," he apologized honestly.

Mulder exhaled a simple 'yeah' and took a sip of water. "This is going to be real fun," he murmured and took another bite. Scully eyed him with disapproval, but he shrugged unapologetically. "We're a hungry species," he remarked snidely.

She suppressed a smile. Marco was right, but there was something about saying it aloud that bothered her deeply.

They ate in silence.

"Everything alright, dad?" Marco asked when they were all back in the car.

Nicola nodded without enthusiasm, "Yeah."

"We got still four hours until we reach the Swiss border," Rosa said. "Do you think our contact will already be there?"

"I certainly hope so," Nicola replied and started the engine.

"Won't this change of route affect the time of our arrival at the border?" Rosa asked.

There was a silence in the car for a moment.

"I don't think so," Mulder replied, finally. "I think Leonardo wants us to travel off-road. He is adjusting the time of our arrival."

"Adjusting?" Marco raised his right brow.

Rosa looked at him and calmly spoke, "He doesn't know who to trust. Whomever he is sending to help us could never be there on time and he cannot risk exposing us for too long at the border. Am I wrong, Nicola?"

Marco exhaled silently. "So it wasn't just a test after all."

"Things are always manifold with Leonardo," Nicola replied. "I'm not surprised that he is working toward as many goals as possible."

"Off-road it is then," Marco murmured and looked out of the window past Scully. "At least the scenery is somehow fulfilling."

Scully winced at his words and looked at him. She could never tell what or how much he really knew about her.

His eyes widened for a moment and looked at her with amusement. 'What?' he mouthed.

She shook her head and looked away. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the winding road and let the magnificent nature of northern Italy take her thoughts away.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

Than the two hearts beating each to each."

\- Robert Browning, Meeting at Night

"Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

\- Khalil Gibran, Love One Another


	8. Into the Storm II

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 8

Into the Storm II

* * *

ON THE ROAD TO SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

15:16 HOURS

William!

She opened her eyes abruptly, the sound of her own voice ringing in her ears. She struggled for a moment before she remembered where she was. Her heart was racing and her breath was short.

"Are you okay?" Mulder asked, seeing her frightened eyes.

She touched her forehead and tried to calm herself. "Yes, I'm fine. Where are we?"

"Near the Italian Dolomites," he replied and squeezed her hand. "You're agitated."

She looked at him with eyes wide and scared. There were so many unspoken words between the two of them, always have been, and a deep sense of the other, almost tangible.

"I dreamt of William," she whispered, her eyes dimming. "They were taking him."

"The cabal?" Mulder asked.

She nodded and leaned into his shoulder. "It was just a dream," she added. "I had similar before."

He pressed her to him and she closed her eyes. "When did we stop?" she asked, seeing they changed the seat order.

"An hour ago. We didn't want to wake you," he whispered back. "Nicola wanted to keep driving, but Marco insisted he needed a break. We'll be at the border in one hour."

Scully looked around, admiring the tall grey mountains with snowy peaks. "It's colder here."

"Yes," he agreed, "we are high in the mountains. Maybe we should just wait here. I doubt anyone would find us."

She chuckled, "A yeti would."

"Scully?" Mulder feigned shock, his lips curling.

"But I forget," she went on, "there are no yetis in northern Italy. Only in the U.S."

Mulder smirked and sneaked his hand around her waist, putting her legs atop of his as much as the narrow space allowed. He looked into her eyes then and gently reassured her, "We're gonna get through this, Scully. I have faith in us."

She leaned her head against the side of his and softly exhaled. "I have faith, too."

"The Swiss border," Marco announced.

She opened her eyes and saw Nicola's resolute expression as he turned to Marco. "We are two hours late," Nicola voiced what everyone already knew.

Mulder turned to Rosa, who was still asleep against his shoulder, and murmured gently into her ear to wake up. She blushed when she realized that she slept so comfortably against him. "Sorry," she mumbled and adjusted her hair.

"It's okay," he reassured her and smiled.

"I hope our connection is here," Nicola continued. "The Great St. Bernard Pass isn't a place to spend the night out in the open." He parked the car near a hospice and killed the engine. The cool air started to penetrate the vehicle's armour instantly.

"How will we recognise him?" Rosa asked, searching for her parka.

"We won't. He'll recognise me," Nicola replied and exited the car.

Mulder followed him with his eyes and turned to Scully when he saw him enter the hospice. "Do you think he wants us to follow him?"

Scully stared at the hospice's door and turned to Mulder. She knew the question was rhetorical. Nicola didn't want anyone to follow him. In fact, he didn't really want anyone in his entire life. "No, I don't think so."

"He's too exposed alone," Mulder said with an urge in his voice, "I'm going in. Rosa, I need you with me."

Marco turned back to them in his seat. "I can go with you. Dana can go with you."

Mulder shook his head, "No. If they are looking for us, they expect the three of us together. They'd be looking for two tall men and a woman with red hair."

"That's true, unfortunately," Scully agreed. "Our description was all over the news."

"Then go alone or take me," Marco insisted.

"No," Mulder replied. "You'll understand when Rosa and I get back. I think I know who Nicola is meeting."

Marco's eyes widened and his brows furrowed. Rosa looked at Mulder a bit confused, too, but nodded and exited the car without further delay. Mulder followed her.

"Be careful," Scully warned Mulder.

GREAT ST. BERNARD PASS, SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

16:23 HOURS

"I spoke in general when I said my father was hungry of all the things he shouldn't be," Marco spoke, interrupting the long silence.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at the back of his neck.

His tone grew serious, "He's made this way. When he wasn't a priest, he often dreamed of a life far from the noise and chaos of relationships. And now that he is a priest-"

"He wants that noise and chaos back," she finished for him, her eyes still fixed on Marco's neck.

Marco nodded and sighed. "He's restless."

She lifted her eyebrows, but didn't say a word.

"He wants ...," Marco's young voice faltered. "He's never wanted anyone really, but now he wants you."

She blushed and thanked God she was sitting behind him. "I don't think it's for us to discuss it. It's his life."

"Right now, you are as much part of his life as I am," he interjected.

A feeling of tiredness washed over her. "What is your point?"

He turned to her. "He trusts you and Mulder. I can see it. But he's got a lot of emotional luggage and he hasn't been exactly good at processing it."

Scully felt for Marco, but they all had their share of emotions waiting to be sorted out. "I can't save him, Marco."

"But you can," his eyes pierced her.

"Marco," she said impatiently.

"Don't let him shut off," Marco insisted, a gentle plea echoing in between his words.

"I can't promise you that," she replied sincerely and saw his eyes dim. "I love your father, Marco, and, by his own admission, he loves me. But my place is beside Mulder, not him."

"I'm not questioning that," Marco replied. "And to be completely frank, this mess was avoidable. But now, for a reason I have yet to comprehend, you're the only one who can make this right."

She sighed loudly. This was avoidable. The sentence echoed in her mind. She looked at the hospice's entrance. "Look," she told Marco as she saw Mulder, Rosa and Nicola exit the hospice.

"What happened?" she asked when Nicola sat in the car, followed by Mulder and Rosa.

"I got only a letter," Nicola replied. "It says we should wait in room 102."

"Rosa and I will go first, then Nicola and then Marco and you," Mulder explained. "We won't attract unnecessary attention that way."

Scully looked concerned. "What if it is a trap?"

Mulder worried his lower lip and gazed at her. He had the same doubts, but there wasn't much else to do.

"I have another idea," Scully said, looking into his eyes as if they were alone in the car.

"Okay," he replied expectantly.

"Let Marco meet our contact," she suggested. "Leonardo's contact will know he's with us."

"And if he won't, he's an impostor," Mulder finished. "Is it okay with you, Marco?"

Marco nodded firmly, but Nicola shook his head. "It's too dangerous. What if they take him as a hostage? What if they hurt him?"

"I don't like the idea at all," Rosa voiced her own disagreement. "But I'll go and pretend to be the cleaning lady."

Mulder looked at Scully and back at Rosa. "Are you sure?"

"Rosa?" Marco stared at her. "No, no way."

"You can't stop me, Marco," Rosa said. "And it's the least dangerous idea."

Nicola sighed and looked at Scully. "I hate to admit it, but she's right."

Marco looked scared but tried to remain calm. "If that's what you want."

"It is," she nodded.

"We'll be there for you," Scully reassured her.

"And run away if anything feels odd," Nicola added.

They sat the plan in motion in no time. Rosa sneaked into the personnel room and grabbed a working suit. The high adrenaline was the only thing that kept her focused and strangely calm. She changed her outfit in the toilet, stashing her clothes in the toilet tank, while Nicola and Marco bought SIM cards at the local store.

»You're very lucky,« the owner of the store commented, »I don't usually have them. But this package arrived yesterday by mistake and I haven't returned it yet. Looks like I won't have to now.«

Mulder and Scully were still in the car, watching Nicola and Marco enter the hospice and waiting for Rosa's signal that she was in the room.

"She's very courageous," Mulder broke the silence that filled the car once everybody but Scully was gone.

"Yeah," she exhaled heavily. "She reminds me of myself when I joined the Bureau."

"Look, there's the sign," Mulder pointed at one of the first floor windows.

She looked in the direction he was pointing and saw Rosa. "Let's go."

They waited patiently in the lobby for half an hour when Mulder saw Gino walk in. "He's here."

"Who?" Scully asked and looked around. "Oh, my God, it's really him."

"Go," he urged her.

"No," she stopped him. "Look."

He looked at the entrance and saw two men walk after him. "Do you recognize them?"

Mulder shook his head and looked intently at them. They were in their fifties, casually dressed and walked right behind Gino. "I think they're with him."

"Wait," she insisted and they waited for Gino and the two men to enter the elevator.

"Quick," she urged him then. "We'll take the stairs."

Before the elevator dinged, Mulder and Scully were already around the corner, waiting for the three men to exit and enter room 102. Marco and Nicola stood opposite them. Marco's eyes widened when he recognized Gino, but Scully put a finger on her lips, reminding him to stay quiet.

But Marco didn't listen. Afraid that Rosa would freak out, he ran after the men without a second thought, earning a hissed 'dammit' from Mulder. Nicola, Mulder and Scully ran after him. Marco yanked the door of the room open and met a surprised Gino. One of the two men that accompanied him grabbed Marco's hands and thrust him against the wall.

"No," Nicola and Rosa both yelled. "Leave him," Nicola grabbed the man.

"Stop!" Gino ordered, his voice deep and austere, and the man let Marco go. "I know him."

Marco adjusted his clothes. "What the hell is going on?" He looked at Gino, the two men and then at Rosa. Her shocked face made him calm down a little. He didn't want to make it worse for her.

"It's okay, Marco," Gino reassured him. "They are monks. Günther and Paul."

"Monks? What kind of monk fights like that?" Marco eyed the older man.

"Günther is ex military," Gino explained. "And Paul is, well, he's an ex con artist."

Marco looked at Paul suspiciously, but he only grinned. "Right."

Mulder looked at Scully in amusement, mouthing 'con artist'. Her lips curled. She was relieved enormously that Günther and Paul were friends.

"I think you owe us a big explanation," Nicola said, looking at Gino.

"That I do, although I'm sure you've gathered more information than I ever could in this short period of time," Gino replied.

"We certainly have, father, but there are things that have yet to be answered. Your supposed death, for one," Mulder intervened, his voice smooth and patient.

"Yes," Gino nodded, his eyes crystal clear.

This wasn't a drunkard or a man of ambiguous morality as Mulder first described him, Scully thought. Gino's eye caught hers and it was all it took for the two of them to read one another. "Let's all sit down."

HOSPICE AT GREAT ST. BERNARD PASS, SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

17:35 HOURS

"The organisation found out that I posses documents of projects that were and still are carried out in secret," Gino spoke as they all sat around the table in the small room.

"Projects involving alien DNA," Mulder suggested.

Gino looked at him with stern eyes and nodded reluctantly, "It would appear so. One of our brothers is a biochemist specialised in genetics. The DNA sequences in those documents ... they are not human."

"Not human?" Marco asked. "As in ... animal?"

Rosa rolled her eyes at him.

"As in alien," Mulder replied.

Scully looked at him and sighed. "Is it the black oil?"

Marco looked at her, eyes perplexed.

"There's a black substance, yes, but they've been very successful with other matters, too," Gino replied, looking at Nicola and Marco. "There's a reason I asked Mulder to come to Rome."

"Is there now?" Nicola retorted.

"He knows about the experiments in Tunguska, the black oil, the alien-human hybrids," Gino explained. "He knows about the conspiracy and the men behind it."

"What exactly are you saying, father?" Scully asked.

"That we need your help," Gino replied and looked at her. "Your knowledge and expertise. I didn't invite you to Rome with Mulder, Ms Scully, because I was afraid to draw too much attention. And because I needed Nicola to believe it was just a friendly visit. I asked Mulder not to tell Nicola anything."

"So you knew they were after you? That it was a matter of just days, maybe hours?" Scully pressed.

Gino looked down and then back at her, "Yes, I did."

"Oh, Gino," Nicola shook his head. "You could have gotten us all killed, and I mean Rosa and Marco as well."

The old man's eyes welled with tears, but he repressed any feeling of sorrow and guilt. "I have no question that I will be judged severely for that, Nicola. But this ... this is greater than you or me and all those around us."

Scully closed her eyes. She heard those words before, and although she knew they were true, she dreaded them. She had already lost too much to this cause.

"Why?" Marco asked. "Why is it greater?"

"Because it's a danger to all humanity," Gino's voice was hard.

"No, that doesn't make any sense," Marco replied. "You can't quantify life. Every sacrificed life in this quest is one sacrifice too many. You of all people should know that."

Scully raised her head, her eyes meeting Mulder's for a split second, but enough to see the old guilt rising up.

Nicola and Rosa stayed quiet, knowing well that neither Gino nor Marco would back away easily.

Gino's lips trembled slightly. "Every lost life is a loss too many. But that doesn't mean it's a loss in vain."

The air in the room was heavy and sad. Each one of them had everything to lose.

"Maybe we should just concentrate on how to solve the issue at hand," Paul spoke carefully.

Marco closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, we should."

"There's a place waiting for you two hours drive from here. It's secluded and hard to find," Günther started explaining.

"Poggia's place?" Rosa asked.

"No," Gino replied. "That was a decoy. We could not risk exposing the location before you got here. The three of us are the only ones that know."

"I see," Rosa replied and looked at Marco. He ran his hand through his hair nervously.

"So we just wait for the storm to pass?" he asked Gino.

Gino looked at Paul and nodded. "Not exactly. Think of it as a retreat to make a plan how to fight back."

"What do you have in mind?" Mulder asked.

Paul smiled briefly. "We expose them in a way they've never been exposed. But first we need both of you to examine the documents and the tape."

Scully glanced at Mulder, knowing there would be hope in his eyes. "Do you have them here?"

"Here and in many other secure places," Paul smiled.

"I'd like to see them as soon as possible," Scully said.

"Then we should get moving now," Gino stood up. "We leave as we have arrived. A new car is waiting for you in the parking lot. A Jeep Renegade, if you excuse the irony."

Mulder smirked while Marco rolled his eyes.

"And, Ms Scully, I am very happy to have finally met you," Gino added and gave Nicola the car keys.

Scully's eyebrows lifted in surprise and she smiled. "I'm happy, too."

Gino nodded and winked at Mulder, earning a soft chuckle from him.

"We meet at the intersection one kilometre from here. Follow a dark brown Dacia Duster," Günther instructed them.

UNKNOWN ROAD, SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

20:49 HOURS

"I hope for a nice shower when we get there," Marco said hopefully and stretched his arms.

"I wouldn't count on it," Nicola replied wearily.

Great, Scully thought, no running water.

"There's running water, but it's not heated. We'll have to wait for that ... if the heater still works," Nicola continued, avoiding Scully's stare.

"It'll be like in the olden days," Mulder whispered to her, sitting beside her.

She looked at him with icy eyes. Having no warm water or any water at all reminded her of how she gave birth to William in Democrat Hot Springs. An experience she would gladly forget if it weren't for the birth of William.

Mulder's grin disappeared when he saw her cold eyes. "Scully?"

She shook her head. "It's okay."

He looked at her as if his eyes alone could tell her how much he cared for her. For better or worse.

She gazed back at him, eyes locking and communicating on their own. She wasn't in the car anymore. No, that was another world – hers and Mulder's. Ever expanding, challenging, difficult and speech-impedingly beautiful. She leaned on his shoulder. Maybe this time it won't be as raunchy and lonely, she thought. Because this time he was with her.

They were driving on a rather desolated road, passing small villages and thick forests. The sun was about to go down, spilling its red-orange aura on green pastures and grey mountains. Leaning on Mulder's shoulder gave her a sense of security and tranquillity. The dark brown SUV was driving in front of them. One could never guess who was sitting behind darkened windows. She searched for Mulder's hand and squeezed it.

He turned his head down to look at her and gave her a reassuring smile. They locked eyes and if it weren't for Rosa, who was sitting right beside her and chatting with Marco in the front seat, she would have kissed him. Slowly and thoroughly like she used to. "Like in the olden days," she whispered to him and brushed her lips against the soft fabric of his shirt.

He sighed and squeezed her hand back. There was more intimacy and longing in that soft but firm touch of hands than in any other physical contact she shared with him for the last couple of months, including all that had happened in the last couple of days.

After that she zoned out.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"In barns we crouch, and under stacks of straw,

Harking the storm that rides a hurtling legion

Up the arched sky ..."

\- Siegfried Sassoon, Storm and Sunlight (1918)


	9. The Unremarkable House in Fusio

Water and Sun

By redprint

Chapter 9

The Unremarkable House in Fusio

* * *

FUSIO, SWITZERLAND

SUNDAY, JUNE 1 2015

00:34 HOURS

"Scully," Mulder voice coxed her gently out of sleep.

She opened her eyes slowly to the dead of the night. Tall dark trees surrounded them. "Are we there?"

"Yes, we are," he replied, wrapping a blanket around her. "Nicola, Marco and Rosa went ahead."

She looked around again. "But there's nothing here, Mulder." Her voice was still sleepy.

"It's right behind the trees. You can't see it from here, or any other direction for that matter. Come on," he gave her his hand and she climbed out of the car.

"Where are we?" she asked as they walked toward the trees.

"In the middle of nowhere," Mulder replied jokingly.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Fusio. The name is Fusio," he explained. "You can't really see anything right now. It's too dark."

"I feel like a fugitive," she said all of a sudden as they walked toward the house.

"Well, we are fugitives," he corrected her.

"We were never the ones to quit, Mulder," she countered him.

He touched her shoulder gently and let his hand rest there.

She looked at him,"We're hiding, waiting for the storm to pass, and letting these sons of bitches get away with it."

"Are you suggesting we should fight them?" Mulder asked prudently.

Her eyes bore into his, "That's exactly what I'm saying."

He nodded in apprehension.

"We should make a plan," she added after a moment of silence. "Exploit this retreat to gather info, interview Gino and get back to Leonardo and Poggia. There's only one problem."

"Rosa," Mulder noted.

"Yes," Scully confirmed. "She's a valuable asset for them because of her parents. She's in real danger."

"What do you propose?" Mulder asked.

"We train her," she replied without hesitation, earning an astonished look from him. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Well, yeah, I did," he replied truthfully.

She arched her brow. "I want this cowards exposed for good."

He nodded again in quiet astonishment and walked with her to the house that was about to become their new home.

Old and dusty with creaking wooden floors, the house was rather unremarkable, but it gave her a strange sense of security. She looked at the old furniture, sighing deeply.

"At least it has two bedrooms," Marco remarked when he emerged from the kitchen.

She smiled at him, "What about the beds?"

"What about them?" Marco asked.

"Are they there?" she inquired, her tone slightly raised.

"Oh, yeah, wooden all the way through ... but no mattresses," he replied.

"What?!" Scully asked.

Nicola burst out laughing and Marco grinned at her.

She looked at them slightly embarrassed and pressed her lips together. "You got me," she said, her tone edgy.

"I'm gonna go help Mulder and Gino with the suitcases," Marco said and left them alone.

"What about Paul and Günther?" Scully asked.

"They will be back soon," Nicola replied.

Right, she thought, no specific answer as usual.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," Marco said as he entered the living room with Gino.

Scully and Nicola turned to them. They were carrying suitcases and blankets. "But it goes against everything you've learned about life so far?"

"You bet it does," Marco replied.

"Mrs Scully," Gino nodded at her.

"Hi," she smiled politely.

"No one knows it?" she heard Mulder asking incredulously then.

"No," Rosa's voice followed.

"Know what?" Marco asked as they appeared.

Mulder looked at Rosa. She was reluctant to talk at first. "I never told you."

Marco's eyes went to Mulder's and back to Rosa's.

"Rosa?" Nicola urged her on.

"My grandmother ...," she looked at Gino and he nodded. "... she was in the original group that founded the Club of Rome."

Nicola and Marco stared at her. "Club of Rome?" Nicola asked and looked at Gino. "Your mother?"

Gino nodded, "My mother."

"The think tank?" Scully asked. "Why is that an issue?"

They all looked at her a little annoyed.

"Right. The conspiracy ...," she commented and sighed. "So, Gino's mother was one of the founders of the Club of Rome. She had to be highly influential, I suppose, bright and open-minded. Her daughter became a lawyer and politician, while her son gained fame of being one of the most influential Jesuits of his time. The Black Pope."

They all stared at her, except for Gino who smiled and nodded.

"You're familiar with the term 'Black Pope'?" Mulder asked her in an amused, yet slightly shocked tone.

"I'm a Catholic, Mulder, of course I know it."

"Yeah, but, I mean ..." he stuttered.

"No, let me finish, since I am the post-modern foolish sceptic," she insisted. With folded hands and a severe look on her face, she continued. "Since the Club of Rome is a global think tank that shapes policies of different international organisations and governments, it had certainly an impact on the Jesuit order, too, and vice versa. All begging the question of where this interlinking ends exactly. Did the Jesuits have a say in the wars that NATO fought? Did they push certain agendas on, such as climate change? Do they have knowledge of CIA operations abroad? And who knows, maybe they've known about the alien virus all along."

Nicola exchanged looks with Gino and supressed a smile, while Rosa and Marco just watched her in silence. She had a point, after all.

"Okay, okay," Gino said in a calm tone. "You've made your point. It does sound highly improbable. But there is a group of individuals, an elite if you will, that calls the shots these days. And neither I or my old mother are among them."

"She's still alive?" Scully asked.

"Oh, yes, 101 years old," Gino replied.

"But you know who is among them, right? That's how you got the documents," Mulder asked him, the revelation evident in his eyes.

Gino lowered his gaze and sat down.

"Gino?" Nicola pressed him.

"Yes, that is how I got them," he confirmed and looked at them. "My mother got them a few weeks ago and gave them to me. It's how it all began."

"It's why you faked your death and orchestrated my abduction, haven't you?" Nicola asked.

"Your abduction?!" Marco felt perplexed.

Gino looked at Nicola and then at Mulder. "Yeah, it was me."

"What?" Rosa asked, shocked.

"There was no other way the three of you would be persuaded to get involved," Gino spoke quietly.

"So, you manipulated our way into it?!" Scully asked in a cold tone. "Even the injuries?"

"In a manner of speaking," Gino nodded, guilt transpiring.

Mulder eyed him, but kept his mouth shut.

"You knew about it, didn't you?" Marco asked Mulder and Nicola.

"I suspected as much," Nicola replied, his voice tight. "But I'm not sure I understand all of it."

Gino shot him a warning eye but said nothing.

"Is it true?" Rosa asked Scully.

Scully looked at her with a tired face. "What?"

"That you would never get involved into this, otherwise," Rosa said.

Scully looked at Mulder for a second and then back at Rosa. "I would have been against it, yes."

"I'm not saying my uncle did the right thing, but ... are you're willing to stay involved now that you know the truth?" Rosa asked.

Mulder eyed Scully, waiting for her reaction.

Scully sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "I don't think I really have a choice now."

"You do," Rosa reminded her. "You're wanted for a murder that didn't really happen. You could leave Europe without any problems."

Scully smiled lightly, "I know, but I didn't mean that."

"What did you mean?" Nicola asked.

"I can't quit now because of the things I know. These people ... they have to be stopped. And if I quit now ... if we quit now ...," she paused again.

"They win," Mulder finished for her.

Scully gazed at him and he gazed back. They were in it together. Partners.

Gino stood up, "It's time to get some rest. I'll be staying with Paul and Günther in the little house behind this one. The two of them should be back from Locarno by now."

"Right," Nicola agreed and escorted him to the door.

"Thank you," Rosa whispered to Scully as Nicola was coming back.

Scully smiled warmly in return. "Go get some sleep."

Rosa followed Marco to the bedroom. The room was empty all of a sudden. Mulder was in the bathroom while Nicola prepared the couch to sleep on it. She welcomed the quiet. There was too much of everything going on. Gino's reappearance, Jesuits and influential think tanks. Marco's remarks. Mulder and Nicola. She sighed deeply and leaned against the kitchen's counter.

"There's nothing as frightening as the unknown," Nicola said while unfolding the blanket. "Unknown people, unknown places, unknown outcomes."

She gazed at him wordlessly, feeling overwhelmed and tired. Her blue eyes showed fear and hope, and her body screamed for a comforting hug.

He placed the blanket on the couch and walked to her slowly.

Her lips parted. She wanted to apologise and flee to the bedroom. But her legs wouldn't move and her hands went by their own accord around his broad shoulders as he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and held him tight.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she breathed into him. "It's not fair to ask this of you."

He hushed her and caressed her hair gently. "It's okay. This life ... it's a constant struggle."

Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn't want to go into an emotional frenzy. "Thank you," she whispered against his neck and pushed him away gently.

He pressed his lips together, disappointed at the feeling of emptiness enveloping his arms, and nodded. "You're welcome."

She looked back at him with soulful eyes. "It is a struggle," she whispered, "but you make it bearable. You all do."

A smile spread across his face and he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

She smiled back, trying not to give away how much she yearned being held just like he held her, and how much she had to pretend that she didn't care how good it felt to be in his arms or how magnetic his gaze was.

"Where's the flashlight, dad?" Marco walked in and stopped in his tracks. "I'm sorry, I didn't ..."

"No, it's alright," Scully replied and gently removed Nicola's hand from her cheek. "It's been a very long day."

"Yeah," Marco agreed. "So, where's the flashlight, dad?"

"Look into the pocket of my jacket," Nicola replied. "Good night, Dana."

She closed the door behind her when she stepped into the dark of the bedroom. She needed to be held so badly. Nicola's thoughtful words and attention almost undid her. She walked to the bed and fell on the mattress.

Her eyes closed.

"Hey, what are you doing in the dark?" Mulder asked as he walked in the bedroom naked from the waist up. He lit the small lamp on the floor. His hair was ruffled from towelling.

"Thinking."

"Anything you'd like to share?" he asked and sat down next to her.

She looked up into his dreamy eyes and something inside her snapped. She sat up, eye level with him, and cupped his face. This was Mulder. Her infuriating soul-mate, her greatest challenger, and the only man who could take her safely through hell and back.

She gazed at him with eyes so vulnerable and honest that he could not bear it. "Talk to me."

She smiled weakly. A single tear ran down her cheek. She wondered if he felt it, too. The need for more and the gratitude of already being given that much. It tore at her soul that she loved him the way she did, but was unable to lead a life with him that would make them both happy.

"Scully," he whispered, looking into her stormy blue eyes.

She ran her thumb over his lips and sighed silently as she saw them twitch under her caress. Only God knew how many times she had fantasised about them, where she wanted to feel them and how badly she wanted to taste them. And how devastatingly erotic it felt when she finally did.

He sat there, next to her, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. Her fingers ignited small fires as they touched and explored his face.

She stared into the depths of his eyes. They seemed darker, richer in the suffused light. "You're the one. The only one," she replied.

"Oh, Scully," he pulled her into his arms and leaned his forehead against hers.

She pushed him away slightly after a short moment and searched for his eyes. Pools of dark green gazed back at her, so full of love that they made her soul scream. "I need you," she whispered, her breath getting caught in her throat.

He swallowed, the desperation in her voice and the urgency with which she gripped his shoulders were not lost to him, but he hesitated.

"Please," she begged, tugging at his arm. She could feel his muscles tense and then relax instantly. His body followed hers instinctively, every move in sync with her own. Arm to arm, leg to leg.

Hips to hips.

"Oh, God," she whispered into his neck when he found his way between her legs.

"Scully," he pleaded or asked, she wasn't really sure.

"I'm here," she responded, while marvelling at the feeling of his weight upon her, her arms against the smooth skin of his shoulders, the warmth enveloping her chest.

She ran her hands everywhere she could reach with a need so strong that it made her think of a time she would give herself to him in complete abandon, trusting him, loving him, letting him see and explore her vulnerable self that she tried so hard to shield, allowing him in her body just as much as she allowed him in her mind.

She breathed heavily. Heartbeats pumping blood, clothes discarded with urgency and sheets rustling under firm grips, soft touches and sudden moves, whispered nothings uttered against flushed skin, his and hers, moans coaxed out of desperate bodies drowning in pleasure. Her mind spinned. She needed to ...

"Stop," she gripped his arms and pushed him away.

His eyes were out of focus when he looked at her, shining but far-gone, with sorrowful ghosts only she could see, only she could expel.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice cracking.

"No, it's not you," she shook her head lightly, still breathing hard.

He gazed at her, the love in his eyes eclipsing any regret, "What is it then?"

She sighed deeply. "Do you remember when we got together ... when we would ...," her voice faltered.

He propped himself on his elbow, his hand resting on her belly. "I remember everything, Scully. In details."

She smiled and closed her eyes. Of course he remembered everything, and in details.

"I got lost in you," she whispered. "It felt like a drug."

He was gazing at her in silence. His hand moved down to her hip, his fingers grazing lightly the smooth skin.

"What are you saying?" his voice was gentle, vulnerable.

"That it still feels that way," she gazed back at him and then looked away. "And I'm still afraid of it."

His fingers stopped moving, "Because it takes away control?"

He knew her well. She smiled bitterly at him. "Yes."

"And this is bad because ...?" he asked, his hand roaming her hip and ending between her legs. He slipped under her cotton white panties.

She gasped at the sudden contact, still too sensitised from before.

He grazed the sensitive skin of her mound, applying soft pressure.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "Don't stop."

He cupped her then, running his middle finger through her folds. She breathed fast. "Muldh ..."

"You didn't answer my question," he spoke, his voice calm and composed, while his fingers explored her sex.

"What question?" she could hardly think.

He exhaled softly. Her sexual arousal did things to his mind and body that he could never truly understand. But this was about her."Why is it bad to lose control?" His fingers circled her clit and pressed down on it.

She whimpered loudly, her breath collapsing in her throat. "I can't ... I'm sorry ..."

He removed his fingers from her clit and placed them lightly on her sex.

She was screaming inside. What was he doing to her? Her hips thrust against his palm, but there was no friction there. He managed to transform her whole being into a need so raw that it threatened to consume her brains irreparably.

"Do you have control now?" his tone was light but serious. He pressed down into her sex, jamming her clit to her labia.

"Ahh," she gasped again. "Please."

He removed his hand again. "Answer me," he insisted gently.

"No, God, no ... I don't have it," she breathed out, her face flushed and eyes wild from strong arousal.

"Does it feel bad?" he pushed further and dipped his finger into her soaking folds. It felt so good to touch her there after such a long time. He brushed her clit again.

She was looking at him with eyes so far gone that it humbled him. "Tell me," he pleaded her and tugged at the sensitive skin.

A loud gasp exploded from her throat. "Feels so good," she managed to utter.

He hummed and nodded. "Multiply that by a thousand and you'll know how I feel when I get to taste you."

Oh, God, she couldn't take it any longer. "Mulder, please, I can't take it."

He shifted and positioned his head between her legs. He slowly removed her soaking wet panties.

The chilly night air enveloped her engorged sex, making it even more sensitive to the touch.

She was breathing erratically, the blood in her veins pumping furiously from anticipation. They hadn't had sex for more than six months. Her body was more than ready to be at his mercy again.

He looked her in the eye, dimmed by the soft light. "I want to taste you so bad."

Her belly did an involuntary flip-flop at his words. She felt dizzy, almost drunk.

He didn't lose any time. His hands cupped her bottom, lifting and adjusting it to his liking.

Her legs fell open in front of him, her folds glistening in the soft golden light. She heard him gasp and then his warm breath enveloped her desperate skin.

She almost swooned when he ran his tongue through the whole lenght of her raw flesh. Her hands squeezed the sorry material under her body and her hips bucked against his hungry mouth.

She looked down and saw him staring at her face darkly. His tongue flicked at her clit rhythmically, sending electric shocks directly to her brain. She was so close.

Her hand gripped his head but he removed it instantly and fixed both her hands under her back. "No."

It was a command and it sent multiple shivers up her spine. She panted uncontrollably, her head falling carelessly into the mattress. It was hard to keep track of what was going on in her body. The physical onslaught of his tongue that made her flesh quiver and burn, the effect of his commanding voice on her muscles and bones, now completely molten into the old mattress. It ached in so many places, the need and love she felt for him.

"I need ...," she panted. Oh, God. He entered her slowly with his middle finger.

"You need ...?" he inquired patiently while his finger massaged her insides.

She gripped the sheet under her furiously. "Come ... make me come,"she was begging him now.

But he took all the time he wanted, observing her twitching muscles and flustered skin. He was transforming her into something new. Yes, that had to be it. Transformation through deep arousal. Oh, Holy Mother ...

There was a soft knock on the door. Maybe the door even opened a bit. She wasn't sure of it, and she didn't really care to look. Not with three of his fingers inside her and his mouth sucking on her over-engorged clit.

She exploded right then, gushing her hot liquid arousal into his palm, curving her body upwards and back down. She saw bright colours behind her eyes, so bright that it blinded her, her lungs starving for that last luscious breath.

She was probably too loud, because he quickly reached for her face and sealed her mouth with his palm, still wet from her shattering orgasm.

Short spasms went through her muscles as she slowly recovered. "Oh, my God," she muttered.

He was lying on his side, admiring her. A content smile on his lips.

She adjusted her hair and tried to gain some bearings of her surroundings. The old cozy bedroom. The small lamp. His naked legs. Her eyes travelled to his face and a spontaneous and joyful laugh escaped her lips. Happy, she was happy.

And he laughed with her, feeling young again.

"Fuck the coming storm," she said as they calmed down.

He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. It felt heavenly in the chilly night. "We are the storm."

She smiled knowingly. "This was mind-blowing," she whispered into his chest after a moment or two. "But you got left behind." She nudged his erection, making him groan.

"It's okay," he replied softly.

"No, I want you to lose it as I did tonight," he looked into his hazel eyes.

His eyes widened, "Scully."

"And for once, you'll call me 'Dana'."

He was left speechless. Dana, he repeated in his mind. It aroused him for some reason.

"You are beautiful," she whispered as she took him out of his boxers.

He groaned loudly as she fondled his scrotum, and looked at her desperately.

His arousal inflamed her. She moved up and kissed him passionately, her tongue stroking the inside of his mouth just as he stroked her insides minutes before.

She had to gasp for air.

"I love you," she said softly, looking into his glimmering eyes.

He closed his eyes and trembled slightly.

She kissed his lips again, slowly searing her mouth to his, telling him he had nothing to fear.

His arms circled her back and pressed her firmly to his chest, his erection seeking her body.

"No," she said with tender authority, breaking the kiss. "I have other things in mind."

She let him slide between her folds but withdrew almost instantly.

He groaned in protest.

"I know," she whispered against his lips.

She slid down his body, marking him with his tongue mercilessly. He wants her without control? He'll get a good taste of it.

"You taste so good," she said, looking him in the eye. "I like the way you harden under my tongue." She had that sultry voice.

He whimpered her name in response.

"I told you to call me 'Dana'," her voice was grave all of a sudden, making his body harder.

She bit the taut muscle of his chest and proceeded lower. Her hair brushed his skin tantalisingly.

She placed hot kisses on his lower abdomen, gaining a few involuntary thrusts of his hips. Her lips curled up. He was rock hard.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He gave her a painful look, but she would have none of it.

He turned and lay on his stomach, his erection now trapped between his belly and the old mattress.

She hovered above him, her hands on each side of his head and her knees on each side of his hips. She lowered her lips to his right ear. "I like you hard and trapped."

He moaned loudly into the pillow.

"Shhh," she hushed him, "it hasn't even begun yet."

She felt his muscles tense. Good, she was in his head.

"You wanted to know how it feels for me?" she inquired, her voice daring.

He was breathing fast. "Y-yes," he stuttered.

"It's intoxicating," she breathed the word out. "It takes hold of your mind completely."She kissed the center of his neck, hot lips locking on heated skin.

He moaned.

She ran her tongue down the length of his spine, slowly, languidly, feeling the smoothness of his warm skin. She stopped when she reached his sacrum, waited for a couple of seconds and blew on it. He gasped and she placed a hot, searing kiss on the sensitive spot.

He breathed hard into the pillow, his buttocks flexing, hips bucking into the mattress.

She smiled against his skin, knowing where his weak spots were. She kissed again the same spot, sucking lightly on it.

"Oh, Scully ... stop," he pleaded, his voice baffled by the pillow.

"Not an option," she replied shortly, squeezing his left buttock and slapping it.

"Ah," he gasped again, painfully erect now.

"Turn around," she ordered him, knowing how much it excited him to be bossed.

There was a moment of hesitation on his part that she noticed right away.

"It's okay,"she reassured him, running her hand over his lower back and buttocks. "I'm turned on just as much."She ran her hand over her sex, soaking wet from arousal, and spread the fluid on his heated skin. "You do this to me."

He turned then, his eyes clear but dark, slicing through her with gravity she did not expect. He lay on his back in front of her now, her legs around him and his vulnerable erection in plain view.

She swallowed hard.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, fearing her voice would break.

A faintest smile crossed his lips.

She shifted toward his face, gazing into the depths of his eyes. She loved him in a way she could not ever describe properly. She neared her lips to his and kissed him lightly, her body hovering over his.

He responded in kind, but the urgence they both felt to connect was overwhelming. She deepened the kiss, unable to contain herself anymore, and his arms went around her back, pressing her tightly to him.

They were heat, bright and heavy.

She needed to breathe badly but her lips wouldn't leave his and his hands wouldn't stop exploring her back. Tears ran down her cheeks.

She broke the kiss. "I love you." Her eyes a starking blue, her breath caught in her throat.

He felt his own tears spilling over. "I know," he whispered back, his soul torn and mended in so many places.

She brushed her lips against his and trailed soft kisses down the line of his jawbone, descending to his neck and collarbone. He tasted of all things. A heady feeling washed through her body. It transported her to a happy time she forgot. A time when she would feel whole and content, almost innocent. Her adolescence.

"I need ...,"he whimpered, "I need to know."

She stopped kissing his left nipple and looked at him. Fear showed in her eyes.

"Yes?"she whispered, trying to concentrate on what he was about to ask.

"Do you love him?"

Oh, no.

The dreaded awful question. Did she love him? She closed her eyes, her head swaying in dismay.

He stared at her, tensing."You do, don't you?"

She sat back, between his legs, and looked away from him into the dark of the bedroom. Oh, God, this was harder than she thought it would be. Her lip trembled.

"Yes, I do," she admitted, looking him in the eye.

His jaw tensed, but he was clever enough to wait.

"But it's nothing compared to what I feel for you," she added.

He exhaled loudly. "I love you, Dana."

"Oh, my God," she whimpered. "I don't deserve these words right now."

He looked lovingly at her, despite the hurt, "Oh, Scully, don't ever doubt that. Come what may, I'll always love you."

She burried her face in her hands and wept silently. How did it come to all this? How did she let it?

"Hey," he whispered and shifted towards her. "Come here."He reached for her hands and hugged her tightly to him. "You saved me from myself, time and again,"he whispered into her ear, "I don't care if you happen to have feelings for another man. Not after all you've been through and the way I treated you these last few months."

She trembled in his arms, emotions running high. Tears streamed down her face. "I've missed you so much."She sought his lips with hers and kissed him with silent urgency. All that she could not put into words lay in those deep raw kisses.

"I want to feel you inside of me,"she said then and felt his muscles tense.

His hands went to her shoulders and gripped them.

She gasped at the sudden intensity in his touch.

He stared at her transfixed.

She felt the world inside of her move. The depths of his love and the fierceness of his need waved around her heart. It felt like touching eternity. And it made her want more. So much more.

She shifted and settled in his lap, his knees locking around her hips. His skin was warm and smooth. Her hands bare and hungry in their desperate need.

She kissed him slowly, her tongue sliding inside his mouth, teasing and exploring, her hands roaming his back and coming back to stroke his rock hard erection.

He groaned loudly, nudging into her belly.

She gasped and looked down. Shifting a little closer to him, she looked him in the eye and took him in, slowly, agonisingly, feeling every vein, every throb of his member. Her mouth opened in exctasy. Her hands gripped his shoulders, eyes shutting from pleasure.

She stopped moving when she felt he was in her all the way, enjoying the feeling of fullness.

"Open your eyes. I want to see you," she heard him say.

She looked at him with heavy eyelids.

"Never doubt my love," he whispered and started to rock his hips gently.

She didn't know whether it was the slow gentle moves or the intensity of their love, but she felt something inside her expand, and endless sea rising within.

Oh, my God,"she moaned.

And he kept rocking her, his rhythm matching hers, back and forth, to a place they could never reach alone. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and his arms circled her hips. Her moans drowned only by his deep groans.

The sea was rising, sweetly threatening her inside. She breathed heavily, erratically. Nothing made sense, it was all a circle, neverending.

"Oh, God, Mulder,"she breathed hard, "oh, God."She burried her head in the crook of his neck, kissing the tendons there.

"Scully,"he whimpered back and sped up his movements.

Her head swooned back suddenly, mouth open in abandon, her lower body pressing hard into his.

She was coming. Hard. Her muscles tensed and relaxed almost simultaneously. Waves of pleasure raked her bones mercilessly, making her hands seek his skin, his face. She wanted to make sure it was real.

She heard him call out her name, a soft plea that announced his own realease. He tensed and trembled in her arms, chanting her name as if she was a divinity.

They both collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, spent now. He searched for his hand and squeezed it tightly. "That was..." she couldn't find a proper word.

He looked at her. She was beautiful. "... us. That was us," he finished for her.

She gazed at him and smiled. Yes, it was them. She moved closer to him and stroked his cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and hummed.

"Never forget that," she added softly and kissed his lips.

He smiled and pressed her tightly to him, whispering words of love and comfort into her ear.

Tears fell down her cheeks silently. She turned her head to him and kissed him. "We should get some sleep," she whispered.

"Yeah," he nodded and kissed her shoulder.

She closed her eyes. Sweet tiredness engulfed her limbs and the night took her thoughts away.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

"A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!"

\- Robert Browning, Meeting at Night


End file.
